


Steve calls it "Quid Pro Quo" Because of course he does

by Ribbonsflying



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel
Genre: Christmas, Family, Hanukkah, Holidays, M/M, Switched as Babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-28 18:37:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15055277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ribbonsflying/pseuds/Ribbonsflying
Summary: Bucky refers to the day that changed his life forever as The Day Becca Barnes Interrogated Santa.Becca looked at the big, bearded man holding her and asked, "Do you not like Jewish people?"That's when Bucky was about 93% certain that Santa was about to shove Becca from his lap, tear off his fake beard, and scream at every kid in the Atlantic Terminal Mall that there was no such thing as Santa Claus.  And maybe being accused of being anti-Semitic before his ten am coffee break was a little above a shopping mall Santa's pay grade, but Bucky wasn't sure that he would survive a meltdown from Santa too so he did the first thing his eighteen-year-old brain could think of to do.This is a story of James “Bucky” Rogers, shopping mall elf and Catholic child of a single mom, finding out that maybe he and Steve Barnes, Jewish older brother of the crying child he met at work, have a few more things in common than both trying to calm down a crying Becca Barnes.  A few more things like maybe they had the same respiratory infection as infants, and maybe they went to the same doctors for help, and maybe the staff there mixed them up and sent them home with the wrong families.





	1. The Part Primus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bear_shark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bear_shark/gifts).



> My family celebrates both Christmas and Hanukkah. However, I am really bad at both Christianity and Judaism and so any glaring errors are definitely faults of mine (all things considered, I'm an atheist so...).
> 
> I'd like to thank Bear_shark for the Cap Reverse Big Bang art and for having faith in me even when I was pretty sure I should throw myself in the garbage.
> 
> Also I would like to thank KOranges who kept me from actually throwing myself in the garbage at any point during the last few months despite having to listen to me threaten to do so many, many, many times.

Bucky refers to the day that changed his life forever as The Day Becca Barnes Interrogated Santa.

"Will you stop at my house this year?" was all the little girl asked at first, brown pigtails bouncing, but when Santa did his jolly "ho ho ho" and replied, "Oh course, I'll come to your house. You've been good, haven't you?" the child burst into tears immediately.

Now, as a highly trained shopping mall elf, Bucky was no stranger to children bursting into tears at any and all moments- even when being handed candy canes and sugar cookies. He'd been cried on, puked on, snotted on, and peed on over the course of the three years that he'd done this job so at this point, a child crying just meant that he should grab a stuffed animal and try to redirect their attention.

But this little girl wasn't an infant. She wasn't even a one or two-year-old who were sometimes still wary of hefty-sized men in an abundance of red velvet and suspiciously long beards. No, this little girl was four-years-old. "Almost five," she'd told him while she was waiting on her turn to see the jolly red giant. She'd also told him she was excited so, of course, now she'd suddenly burst into huge crocodile sized tears without explanation. And Bucky wasn't quite sure at her age that a stuffed animal in her face would make any difference.

Bucky's hand was already on the nearest reindeer plushie when the little girl continued through sobs, "You- you-you didn't c-come before!"

"Oh god," came a voice and Bucky looked to see a teenage blond boy who had come with the little girl cringing and making his way past the green velvet rope to get to her.

"Hey, hey," Santa was saying, but everything about his face was ultimately panicking and Bucky watched the blond boy step up to the child and kneel down near Santa.

"Becca," he said as he reached out to the little girl and placed a hand on her back comfortingly. "Becca, baby, I told you." Bucky watched as little Becca tried to control her sobs, her whole body shuttering. The blond man looked uneasy and Bucky came closer to try to help. "Becca, remember what I told you?" the boy asked. "You are a good girl. You're very good. Why did I tell you Santa didn't come see us?"

Becca looked angry and heartbroken at once. "He's m-meeaaan," she howled.

 

"That's not even close to what I said," the boy replied flatly and then looked up at Santa with an apologetic expression.  "Why did I tell you Santa didn't come visit?" he repeated somewhat stronger to the child. 

Becca heaved a few more times and the older boy reached up and wiped at her cheeks.  

"We're Jewish," she squeaked, voice cracking a bit and Bucky had to cover his mouth with his hand to keep from laughing at the kid.  She was clearly traumatized by the whole holiday, and really, who could blame her? All of her friends getting gifts for being good and what was she left with? A few chocolate coins and her grandmother making her play with fire. 

“Yeah,” The boy said softly. “Santa never came to visit me either, but not because I’m bad.” 

Becca looked up at the big bearded man holding her, tears filling her big brown eyes.  “But I w-want you to c-come to my house.”  Her body was still heaving and the situation was potentially going to devolve into a full on meltdown crisis, especially when Santa hesitated and Becca added, “Do you not like Jewish people?” 

That’s when Bucky was about 93% certain that Santa was about to shove Becca from his lap, tear off his fake beard, and scream at every kid in the Atlantic Terminal Mall that there was so such thing as Santa Claus. And maybe being accused by children of being anti-Semitic before his ten am coffee break was above a shopping mall Santa’s pay-grade, but Bucky wasn’t sure that he would survive a meltdown from Santa too so he did the first thing his eighteen-year-old brain could think to do. 

“Becca,” he spoke, glancing at the blond boy to be absolutely positive he had gotten the name right.  “Oh course Santa likes Jewish people. Santa likes all good children.“ 

Becca was looking at him now and taking in the velvety costume he wore almost everyday during this season.  After a second or two, her eyes seemed set on the bright green hat.  Bucky was glad she hadn’t focused on what most kids focus on: his prosthetic arm sticking out of his costume sleeve.  

“Why don’t you come over here with me a minute?” he asked and reached out a hand to her, his flesh one (He knew better than to offer anyone his prosthetic one). “We can talk about what you think we should do about Santa coming this year. How does that sound?”  

Becca sucked in a breath or two and then nodded weakly. She placed her little hand in Bucky’s outstretched palm and then slipped off of Santa’s lap without looking back. 

“I’m Bucky,” he told both Becca and the boy as they moved away. 

“My name is Rebecca,” she told him and her voice seemed to be finding its confidence as tears dried on her lashes.   

Bucky looked over to the older boy with her who smiled, unsure of the situation.  

“Uh, Steve Barnes,” he supplied. “Older brother and the one responsible for telling her she could talk to Santa even after repeatedly explaining why he didn’t come visit us.” 

“It’s okay,” Bucky calmed, swinging Becca’s arm a bit as they stepped off Santa’s platform. He watched as Natasha took over letting children visit Santa and he walked Becca and Steve over to a table on the side where they usually wrapped Christmas gifts and sold photo albums and ornaments to parents who were always eager to enshrine a moment of their little one screaming at the sight of a bearded stranger with a jovial disposition.

Bucky pulled out a chair and sat down, motioning for Steve to sit in the chair on the opposite side of the display table.  He motioned to his lap and asked Becca. “You wanna sit with me instead of Santa?”  

She hesitated and then eyed the hat again.   
   
“You wanna wear my hat?” he asked.   
   
She nodded and reached for it as Bucky pulled if off, revealing longer dark brown locks that he’d twisted and pinned up behind his head.  He handed the hat to the little girl who reached and petted the velvet like it was some kind of animal.   
   
“It’s soft,” she told him and Bucky and Steve eyed one another with grins.  She pulled the hat onto her head and then smiled up at Bucky before reaching out to him. Bucky placed both hands under her arms and lifted her up onto his lap. He carefully balanced Becca on one yellow-stocking-covered leg and wrapped an arm around her (hopefully if the prosthetic one was around her, she wouldn’t see it on the table in front of her and feel uncomfortable). Then using his free hand, he reached around in a basket beneath the table and found a notebook. It was red and glittery and Bucky flopped it onto the table, followed by a candy cane shaped pen. 

   
“Now, Rebecca, why don’t we put your name in this notebook so Santa can add it to the list of children and maybe he can bring you a little something this year for Christmas, okay?” he glanced to check with Steve as he said it and Steve kind of shrugged his agreement.  It wasn’t like he could very well tell his sister no now.  Their parents didn’t encourage celebrating Christmas (obviously), but they’d never shown any contempt for the holiday either.  Steve would explain what happened to them, let his mother complain a bit, and then he’d buy his sister a few things, stuff them into a stocking, and label it from Santa so she could wake up feeling like she wasn’t unloved by the Big Guy this time of year. 

“That sounds like a good idea, right?” Steve said to his sister. 

She nodded and Bucky took the candy cane shaped pen and wrote “Rebekah” in his sparkly notebook. 

“It’s spelled the other way,” Steve supplied and Bucky furrowed his brow.

“You spell it,” Bucky told the little girl as he marked out the name he’d written and handed her the pen. She gripped it with her hand fisted around the barrel and Bucky kind of smirked. He loved children.  Maybe it was because he’d grown up an only child, but something in him always got a little jealous seeing siblings together, especially enjoying one another’s company and especially around the holidays.

Becca didn’t write “Rebecca” and instead just wrote “Becca Barnes” before returning the pen. Bucky drew a little box next to her name and placed a check mark in it before holding the notebook up for examination.   

“I think that looks good.” 

“And now Santa will come to my house too,” she said more matter-of-factly.  

“You won’t see him there,” Steve said. He wanted to make sure she was aware that Santa was more like a stalker who spied on you when you weren’t aware and then left you gifts you may or may not have even asked for.  

“That’s right,” Bucky supplied. “Santa only comes when you’re sleeping.  And he comes in and drops off your gifts for you to find when you wake up. You won’t see him.  He just comes and leaves you a surprise.” 

Becca seemed to consider this for a moment and then answered, “That’s okay. Because if he comes, that still means I’ve been good.” 

“Exactly,” Bucky and Steve said in unison and then looked at one another with small grins. 

“You want to try to get a picture with Santa again?” Bucky asked. “Your brother can get it with you if you want.” 

Becca glanced over at the man on the platform and shook her head.  

“Can I get a picture...” she trailed off and almost looked shy before finishing, “with you?”  

“With me?!” Bucky asked and, well, this was a first.  No one usually looked twice at him unless they were staring at the prosthetic hand or unless he was trying to convince them to pay for more pictures (and then the looks he received were usually of shopping-weary parents whose faces always said, “I know what you’re doing here, you conniving little punk,” even though they rarely voiced it). 

Becca nodded. 

“Well, maybe,” he replied.  He looked over at the platform and called out. “Hey Natasha! We need your hat!” 

Natasha was Bucky’s best friend and had worked this job with him for two of the last three years. She didn’t love children, but she wasn’t terrible with them and she loved both Bucky and her paycheck so there she was.  

She walked over to the little table and tugged her hat off. It was fitted a little smaller than Bucky’s so she just set it off centered on his head, his brown locks still visible and Natasha absently noticed the same exact shade of brown as the little girl’s in his lap.  

“Perfect,” Bucky told her. “Will you take our picture?”  

“You want me to take a picture?” Natasha asked in her kid-friendly voice and Becca chanted “Yes!” a few times before reaching out for her brother.  

“C’mon, Steve. Indulge us,” Bucky said and Steve stepped around to be in the photo.  

Natasha took Steve’s cell phone while murmuring to him, “I’m not gonna make you pay for a pic with this guy.  Lousiest elf ever.” 

“I’m telling Santa,” Bucky threatened as Natasha held up the phone.  

“Alright, say ‘Reindeer!’” she instructed before they echoed it back and she snapped the picture. 

 

 

 *=*=*  
  


 

And sure, Steve recalls the Santa thing, but what the day usually brings to mind for him is The Night I Told Mom the Jews Are Celebrating Christmas Now. 

“And so now Santa is going to bring her a few little things for Christmas this year,” Steve explained to his mother as she half-paused what she was doing in the pantry to listen to him.  

“Oh, is he?” Winifred Barnes asked, pointedly. She was engrossed in whatever she was planning to make for the temple’s bake sale. (It was pretty much the only time she cooked anything which honestly was in everyone’s best interest.)  

“I’ve got it handled,” Steve assured.   

“Show her my picture!” Becca said, reaching for the phone in Steve’s hand and he pulled it back from her reach. (People have to make rules with young children and one of Steve’s was ‘No Playing on My Phone with Your Inevitably Sticky Fingers, Becca.’)  

“We took a picture with the elf guy too. He was nice.” 

“Sounds like it,” their mother replied. “Very  persuasive for a shopping mall elf.”  

“Oh, stop,” Steve argued lightly. “I said I’ll handle it.” 

He unlocked his phone and found the picture.  “Here’s me and Becca with Bucky the Elf.”  

“I wrote my name in the book!” Becca announced. “Santa’s gonna come here!”  

Steve turned his phone toward his mother, but she was engrossed in collecting her ingredients so he stood there with his hand out, holding the thing.  

“Did I already get out brown sugar?” she asked and Steve stepped out of the door of the pantry to look at the kitchen counter.   

“Not yet. Look.” 

 Winifred was muttering to herself about sugar and then she was back to going through the pantry.   

“Moooommm!” Becca begged and then Winifred returned to paying attention to them. 

“She wants you to see the picture,” Steve reminded, scanning his finger again to unlock the screen that had gone dark. 

Winifred glanced at the picture on Steve’s phone as she pocketed her list. 

“You’re wearing an elf hat!” she said playfully to Becca, obviously turning her proper Mom Mode back on.  She collected her last things from the pantry and they all walked toward the kitchen counter. 

Becca tugged on Steve’s arm.  

“Let me see!” (She’d already seen it numerous times, but Steve obliged.) 

“That’s Bucky!” she squealed as she pointed. “He’s a real elf and he works for Santa and I borrowed his hat!”  

Winifred gave the phone screen a second look; this time her eyes went to the face of the boy Becca was pointing to and she paused. 

Looking back at her from the photograph were the faces of two people with the same shade of chocolate brown hair, the same amber brown eyes, and the same cleft chins. Their round faces, defined cheekbones, and sharp noses were the same and both of their grins seemed to suggest they were onto you about a secret you didn’t even know you were keeping.  Then there was Steve. Blond haired, blue eyed, angular-faced Steve.  

Winifred looked back and forth between them and then back and forth between her daughter and son standing right in front of her.  

“Wh-Which mall was this, Steve?” she asked. “Atlantic?” 

He nodded. “Yep.” 

She studied the picture again.  

“What?” Steve asked. His mother had gone still and quiet which wasn’t unlike her, but still seemed odd for the moment.  Usually when she was still and quiet she was in the middle of doing something work-related in her office or Steve had mentioned something from his childhood and she’d gotten lost in thought or she’d spotted a spider and was trying not to scream. 

“Send me that picture please,” was all she requested before turning back to the ingredients she had set out. 

“You’re gonna put it on your phone?” Becca asked and Winifred made a smile that seemed quite forced.  

“Yes, darling.  I’ll put it on my phone.”  

“You okay?” Steve asked. 

 Their mother nodded. “Becca, will you go get my phone from the office please?  It’s charging on the desk.  

“What’s his real name?” she asked Steve as Becca raced from the room. 

“Whose? The elf?” 

She nodded again.  

“I didn’t ask.” 

“What did you say they called him? Bucky?” 

Steve kind of laughed. “Yeah.  What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, Dear,” she replied as Becca returned with the phone.  

 _Dear_. It was an odd name for Winifred to call Steve. She was always more affectionate with Becca. She and Steve had a relationship built more on the basis of the fact that she’d given birth to him and steadily paid his nannie, his doctors, and his school tuition throughout his childhood.  It wasn’t really a relationship that required pet names.  Those were usually reserved for his little sister.  

Steve had never resented Rebecca. On the contrary, he’d actually taken to her better than most older siblings ever take to their younger ones. He treated Becca like she was the prize their mother thought she was.  Some part of him had always liked the attention he got when he was with his sister. And besides, it wasn’t Becca’s fault that their mother picked favorites.  She might not ever win Mother of the Year, but she was doing fine. 

 

=*=*= 

 

But Bucky’s night wasn’t memorable at all really.  

“Ma!” Bucky called as he came into the apartment.  There wasn’t an answer and so he locked the door back behind him and dropped his backpack to the floor. 

A notepad on the kitchen counter read, “Picked up and extra shift. See you in the morning. I love you.” 

Bucky shucked out of his jacket and then his green velvet tunic until he was standing there in a t-shirt and yellow stockings.  

“Met a cute boy today,” he said to the empty kitchen.  He always told his mom these things, but around the holidays she picked up as many extra shifts as she could. Bucky wasn’t a small child anymore so she didn’t go all out for his gifts, but she was a good mother and Bucky wasn’t going to lie. He’d be upset if he wasn’t spoiled at least somewhat on Christmas.  

Yeah, it was more comforting to come home to his mom. It was just the two of them on the account that Bucky’s dad had died when he was an infant and his mom had never remarried or had any other children.  Still, Bucky couldn’t exactly complain that his mom loved him enough to want to be able to afford Christmas and keep the utilities paid at the same time.  What a saint, really. 

He carried his jacket and the uniform tunic to this room and tossed them onto his bed.  He stepped out of his shoes and stripped out of the stockings and tossed them aside as well.  Then he stood around in his t-shirt and underwear a moment trying to decide where to start.  He had homework to do and dinner to make and it wouldn’t kill him to pick up some of the mess around his room. 

“Decisions, decisions,” he muttered.  

Then he quite obviously decided to start with none of those considering he flopped onto his bed and sighed really big.   

It was less than a month until Christmas.  He didn't buy for many people, but he would need to pick up a few things and he thought about what to get his mother a few minutes before giving up and reaching for his phone.  

There was a text from Natasha- a picture of her coffee with the image of a Christmas tree in the foam, a bundle of notifications from Instagram about his last upload, and an e-mail from school about his upcoming finals.  Bucky went to reply to Natasha, promptly dropped his phone on his face, and decided to quit life for a bit. He set the phone aside and fell asleep just like that. He was probably a sight to behold, but no one came over so no one ever caught him in his t-shirt and boxers and flattened hair from the elf hat, splayed out atop his sheets and comforter, cell phone and crumpled clothes on the bed nearby. 

   
 

=*=*= 

   
 

The next morning, Winifred Barnes looked worse for wear and Steve’s immediate thought was that Something was wrong. Something with a capital S because she was standing in the kitchen next to Jackie, their nannie and housekeeper, and not saying a word.

It wasn’t unusual that his mother was awake. She was often awake at this time. It was just unusual that she was in the kitchen and downing coffee like it was a lifeline. She kept looking at Steve like he’d changed overnight and something about it was making his skin crawl.  

“Mom, you wanna talk?” he asked as Jackie handed him a plate of waffles and some whipped cream. He thanked her as he took his first mouthful and then his mother seemed to shake her head and come out of her stupor just a bit. 

“I’m going to the mall today,” she replied, but for all appearances she was talking to her mug and not to Steve or Jackie. “To see what Santa can bring your sister for Christmas.”  

Steve nodded. “She wants one of those flying fairy things. I forgot what they’re called, but you pull the string and they spin and fly up into the air.”  

Winifred didn’t seem to be listening which Steve wouldn’t have found unusual except that he was talking about Rebecca.  Rebecca was the light of his mother’s life.  She would usually be keenly interested in anything to do with her. Even if it was her lesser preferred child telling it to her. 

“Get home right after school,” she told him without ever commenting again on the gifts from Santa. “Your father will be here.” 

Steve’s face lit up and he almost spoke with a mouth full of waffles, but he knew Jackie would reprimand him if he dared to try that in her kitchen. It was only that his father was rarely home. Having a life long military career, but a family based in Brooklyn meant that a man could be there for the conception of his children and then rarely have to see them their entire lives. He hadn’t even met Steve until he was almost a year old.  

Legend had it that he’d had the option to come home, but the mission he was on was just So Important. Steve didn’t hate him for that, but there was a bit of a sting that he felt when it came to mind. He wasn’t sure if it was more or less of the sting he felt when he considered how much more his mother seemed to prefer Rebecca. Their father had been there for her birth as well. Winifred had insisted.  At least for his part, George Barnes didn’t seem to have a favorite child.

Either way, it was all fine. Jackie loved Steve like her own and most days, that was plenty. Unless he went over to his best friend’s house and saw how Sam’s mother seemed to love him and all three of his younger siblings equally.  That always made him feel funny. Because otherwise, he comforted himself by saying things to himself like, “Well, someone has to be the favourite child. Of course it’s the cute baby,” or “Steve, you fight anything that moves. It makes you hard to love. Suck it up, you cactus.” 

And he’d never asked about it to either his mother or father.  They’d probably deny it anyway. And well, them treating him a certain way was one thing, but denying it to his face would somehow hurt a lot more, he thought. 

   
 

=*=*= 

   
 

“Good morning, Sunshine,” Sarah Rogers’s rich Irish accent greeted as Bucky zombied from down the hall and into the bathroom.  

Bucky mumbled something unintelligent that might have been the word “morning,” but may also have been pretty much any other word in pretty much any other language.  

Sarah just rolled her eyes fondly as Bucky shut the bathroom door and then the shower started up a moment later. Bucky wasn’t a morning person. Had never been and would never be. Not even on holidays and that was saying something considering Bucky’s love for them. (Bucky was just of the opinion that gifts or surprises that were there at seven AM would still be there at eleven AM.)  

When Bucky emerged from the bathroom, having woken up a smidge more, his hair was no longer sticking out in four directions and his teeth were brushed and face a bit brighter. 

He didn’t say anything as he went to his bedroom again and gathered his freshly washed costume for work. He stuffed the shoes and stockings and hat into his backpack and grabbed the hanger the tunic was on.  

“Love you, Ma,” Bucky sputtered as he hurried to shove his feet into his regular sneakers.  He turned to look over at his mother before ducking out the door, but Sarah just gave him a questioning look.  

“Jacket?” she asked.  

“Left it at work last night and didn’t realize it till the doors were locked.”  

“Wear your blue one,” she told him matter-of-factly and Bucky’s brow furrowed.  His usual leather jacket was his favorite. The blue one that hung in his closet was older and puffier and a bit out of style and yeah, okay, it kept him as warm as a bagel in a toaster, but his tough guy image wasn’t as easy to work while his arms were surrounded by the little pillow pouches that made up the garment. 

But Bucky was eighteen-years-old and maybe some teenagers argue with their moms a lot, but James Buchanan Rogers knew that his mother was the toughest, most unmovable Irish matriarch this side of the Atlantic (or maybe even in the whole world) so when he opened his mouth to argue that he didn’t need the outdated blue jacket, he shut his mouth just as quickly- an audible snap of his teeth hitting together- before turning to go get the thing from his closet. Sarah Rogers was the kind of woman who made up her mind and then could not be moved- like one of those boulders that falls into the middle of a river and is so solid in its position that it can’t be washed downstream and the river has to try for an unreasonably long time to carve out a wider path in the riverbank just to move around the damn thing.  Bucky had gotten into plenty of fighting matches over ridiculous shit, but he had never won a fight against Sarah Rogers and he didn’t think he has time to start one now, especially knowing it was a losing battle. 

A minute later, his blue-clad, puffy penguin arms wrapped around her in a hug and then Bucky grabbed his backpack again.  

“Met a cute boy yesterday,” he said with a waggle of his eyebrows. “But this elf stayed professional so all I can tell you is his name is Steve and he’s out there somewhere being beautiful, while I’m here being single.” 

“Aw,” his mother brushed his hair back from his face. “You’ll find someone.  Have a good day at school.” 

“I’m not gonna find anyone in this jacket,” Bucky made sure to throw in before he reached for the door and stepped out into the apartment hallway.   
  


*=*=*  
  


Natasha thinks about the day Bucky met Winifred as The Day the Stalker Lady Got Thrown Out of the Atlantic Terminal Mall.

Natasha made sure to wave Bucky over as soon as he arrived to work that afternoon.

“James, there’s a strange woman here looking for you,” she said, tucking hair behind her ear and readjusting her elf hat.“She’s not standing here, but she’s like circling the place. She’s already asked me if you’d be in today.I didn’t tell her anything, but I’m hoping you know her or this is just gonna be weird.”

“What’s she look life?” Bucky asked, glancing around as he grabbed a gingerbread cookie and helped himself.Santa was on a fifteen minute break and those cookies wouldn’t eat themselves.

“I don’t know. Brown hair, ‘bout to her shoulders, brown eyes, probably in her late forties-“

“I can’t believe you noticed her eye color.”

“I’m perceptive,” Natasha defended. “She was dressed kind of business professional.I think her bag was real Prada.”

Bucky furrowed his brow. “Yeah, I don’t know anyone who can afford real Prada, but if this strange lady wants to help me afford MIT, we can talk.”

“She’s back,” Natasha murmured, “Five o’clock.”

Bucky tried to make looking over at the woman seem natural, but everyone knows that’s damn near impossible after someone’s old you exactly where to look so he probably failed horribly. Nevertheless, he glanced over and caught sight of a woman in a cream business suit and a pair of loafers that probably cost more than his Stark phone and she was looking straight back at him.

He tried to look away again and maybe escape this soon-to-be awkward moment, but the woman was coming closer and then said, “Excuse me!”

So Bucky glanced over with the somewhat guilty expression of someone who’d been caught staring at someone else (even though Bucky would argue he wasn’t staring at all and she may very well have been stalking).

“Excuse me!”She sounded desperate.

“Yes?” He tried casually. “May I help you?”

The woman reached him and was looking his green and yellow, elf-suit-clad body up and down with an expression that Bucky assumed she would also give the latest Chanel line or maybe a gift from Harry Winston.It was how Bucky figured he would look at being handed one of those oversized Publishers Clearing House checks for a million dollars, or hell, even a year-long supply of coffee.

She stood speechless a moment so Bucky tried again.

“Yes ma’am?”

The woman seemed to snap to a bit and met Bucky’s eyes.

“What’s your name?” she managed and she sounded like she’d just found El Dorado.

“Bucky,” he answered with a smile and all the charm he could muster under the circumstances, but she wasn’t satisfied.

“Your real name.”

“James?” he asked like maybe now he wasn’t sure.

“James what?How old are you?”

Bucky stepped back a step even though there was a plastic, holly-trimmed fence between them.

“Who are you?” He asked. “Why are you asking about me?”

“Were you ever a patient at Lehigh Research Institute as a baby?”

Bucky furrowed his brow. “How do you know that?”

The woman reached out a hand and cupped his cheek, but Bucky immediately jerked back.

“Steven,” she said and her voice broke, but Bucky shook his head.

“Bucky,” he corrected as if amazed she could have already forgotten.

“No, your real name-“ she tried to say, but Bucky interjected,

“James.”

“When you were a patient at Lehigh,” she argued, but Natasha was getting uneasy as she looked on.

“Look, Ms. uh-“ she stepped up and put a hand on Bucky’s back easily.

“Barnes,” she answered without looking away from Bucky. “At Lehigh, was it in 2001?”

“I guess so?” he answered. “All things considered, I don’t really remember it.  I was a baby.”

Natasha put on a stern voice that definitely wasn’t very family-friendly so she was glad Santa was away from the workshop for the moment.

“Look, what you’re asking is an invasion of privacy and we’re going have to insist that you leave now please.”

Bucky was actually proud of that five foot, hundred pound, pointy-shoed girl beside him. She sounded _so_ _authoritative_.

Until the woman on the other side of the holly-laced fence spoke up even more sternly and said directly to Natasha, “I am Judge Winifred Barnes of the Kings County Supreme Court and I am _not_ speaking to _you_.”

Bucky wished his eyebrows hadn’t jumped up to somewhere on his forehead.

Winifred Barnes looked back at Bucky with a tender expression as if she hadn’t just verbally smacked the most formidable person he knew.

“Your name is Steven,” she repeated to him.“I know because you’re my son. I know that probably sounds crazy, but you have to believe me.”

Bucky’s elf hat started getting very hot around his head and the tunic suddenly wouldn’t let him breathe, but as Winifred reached out again to touch Bucky like a pony in a petting zoo, Natasha thought of what to do.

“Security!” she yelled. “Security!”

“Stop that!” Winifred snapped back, suddenly losing her composure and swatting in Natasha’s direction. “He’s my son!”

“I know his mother and she’s not you!” Natasha turnedaway from her. “Security!”

As for Bucky, he wanted to help Natasha yell, but the elf costume that he’d worn every day for years was suddenly too tight, too hot, and too itchy.

It was like he’s just slipped on the costume to find out someone had pranked him and doused it with itching powder and icy hot.

“You’re my son!” Winifred was telling him. “Your birthday is March 10th! You’re O+ blood type and you’re allergic to penicillin! Please!”

Bucky was taking off his hat and opening his elf tunic to reveal his t-shirt beneath as the security guards raced up.

“What’s the situation?” one asked, but Natasha just said.

“Get her out of here! She’s stalking and harassing him!” and well, thanks to Natasha’s authoritative voice and her intimidating demeanor no one questioned a word.

“I don’t know her!She’s not my mom!” Bucky said quickly as the guards put their hands on Winifred’s shoulders and began to usher her away.

“No!” Winifred shouted as she jerked away, but the guards grabbed her arms more sternly then and began hauling her back from the Santa station and toward the exit. “He’s my son! I’ve been looking for him!He’s my son! He’s my son! Steven!”

And Bucky shucked out of the velvet tunic because he was burning up and shivering all at once and he raced from the Santa station back toward the break room and sat there feeling sick until he pulled out his phone and made a phone call.

“Mom?” he spoke into the receiver. “Will you come to the mall?”

 

=*=*=

 

Sarah Rogers met Bucky at one of the mall doors fifteen minutes later and she felt as her son stopped shivering in her arms.

“What happened, baby? What’s wrong?”

“The police want to talk to me,” he answered.“There was this woman here. She was crazy. She kept asking me questions and insisting I was her son. And then she started screaming at me until the security officers carried her away.”

To her credit, Sarah Rogers didn’t freeze on the spot or lose her words or start to cry. She simply felt the ice prick her heart and then forced the words from her mouth.

“Maybe she’s right.”

 


	2. The Part Secundus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you think the crazy lady has your son? The real one? And they just mixed us up? Maybe she’s had him all along.”

“You never said anything. For seventeen years.” 

Bucky and Sarah were sitting in the back room together and nobody had dared to bother them since they’d closed the door behind them half an hour or more ago. (Either because Sarah Rogers was stern enough in her own right or because Natasha had warned the other workers to stay away and Natasha was downright scary.)

“I was afraid you would feel unwanted, second-rate. I never wanted you to feel that way.You are everything to me.”

Bucky sniffed. He’d cried enough that his body had turned to shivers and his mother had found his leather jacket hanging nearby and draped it around him.

“You never searched for my family?” Bucky asked.

“I didn’t know how,” Sarah admitted. “I spoke to some nurses at the university where they treated you.Thought maybe there had been a simple mix up. But they insisted you were my baby so I considered my options.”

“What options?” Bucky asked. “You didn’t fight them? You didn’t want your real baby? Or, at least, not want a _stranger’s_?”

“Bucky, honey, I was scared that if social services found out, they would take you from me and put you in a home and with someone who didn’t want you and leave me with no one.I loved you all along- even knowing you weren’t my same son, I made you the best home and gave you everything I would have given my own child. I made you mine.”

Bucky wiped at his eyes. He hadn’t cried this much since he’d lost his arm and subsequently his hockey scholarship two years ago (which, okay, in retrospect, that incident hadn’t needed this many tears, but everything is relative and at the time, that was relatively the worst thing he could imagine.Recent circumstances now suggested he hadn’t imagined hard enough.)

“What about your real baby?”

“He was very, very sick. I’ve always wondered if they lost him- if they were scared to tell me he didn’t make it.He was very tiny and ill and a lot of the doctors and nurses and even some organizations chipped in to be able to afford the special care.Maybe they didn’t want to tell all of us that it had all been in vain.”

“So they just stole me to replace him?” Bucky didn’t know if that made him angry or not. He didn’t know anything right now honestly except that this was the most confused and upset he’d ever been about anything in his entire life. (And that was including the time he had to figure out what it meant that the very lifelike statue of Jesus at the crucifixion that hung in their cathedral gave him a hard on if he studied the nearly naked figure too much.)

Sarah looked away from him for a second, not wanting to see the pain that would inevitably fill his expression when she said her next words.

“I’ve been a nurse since college.I’ve seen too many babies be left by parents who couldn’t take on their needs.I just thought, maybe...”

“You think she left me?”

Sarah didn’t have to look to know exactly what Bucky’s face was like the moment he considered that possibility.

“If she’s making a scene now, she probably didn’t leave you. She’s probably been confused for years too,” Sarah reasoned. She reached out across to her son and put her hands on both of his shoulders.

“But what if that crazy lady really wanted me all along? I don’t want to have to go live with her.”

“You’re eighteen, Bucky,” Sarah assured. “No one can make you do anything you don't want to.”

He seemed to take comfort in that for a moment and then sighed and met his mother’s blue eyes.

“Do you think the crazy lady has your son?The real one?And they just mixed us up?Maybe she’s had him all along.”

And that was when Sarah lost her words and she had to let a shrug and her own tears speak for her.

 

=*=*=

 

Bucky couldn’t imagine what it was like The Day She Made The Call.He wasn’t there. But Sarah Rogers will never forget the phone call she placed when she rang the Hall Of Justice the next day and asked to speak to Judge Barnes.

She would later tell Bucky that it felt like giving her son away.

“I’ll leave my number. Tell her it’s concerning Bucky.”

Bucky had known she was going to make the call before he left for school the next day and it took everything in him to not ask his mother if he could curl up at her feet or hold on to her legs like he had when he was small. He felt like hiding behind her and never coming in contact with the crazy lady from the mall ever again. But he knew it was now or an eternity of “what if?” so went to school and left it to his mother to figure out what to say.

“Hey, want your kid back?” was definitely the first thing that came to his mind. Followed by, “He’s kind of moody and uses all the hot water and you have to drag him out of bed each morning and he’s a grade behind at school and doesn’t appreciate the clothes I buy him.”

His mind flashed momentarily to the puffy blue jacket hanging back in the closet again.He used to like it when it was still in style.Didn’t that count for something?

“He’s flaming gay, watches extensive amounts of hockey, and will eat you out of house and home.”

Before he made it to school, Bucky’s mind had kindly ended up supplying no fewer than one-hundred-twenty-six things the-woman-he-had-always-assumed-was-his-mother could actually resent about him.

Which is why he sat through each class that morning wondering if his mother had made the call yet and what things she had said about him if she had.

By lunch, he was convinced Sarah Rogers secretly hated him. He couldn’t come up with a single reason for her not to. He was expensive and he could be ungrateful and forgetful. Even when he tried to be useful, he didn’t load the dishwasher right so the dishes didn’t get clean. He didn’t remember to separate the clothes before washing so one time the white laundry got died pink and one time baby blue.He bought her flowers for her birthday three years ago only to find out that she was allergic to the ones he’d chosen.

Feigning an illness, Bucky signed himself out of school and headed home, desperate just to see her and apologize for every rotten thing he’d ever done.He practiced his speech on the way home the way a young child would practice to say their lines in a Christmas pageant.

“I love you and I know I’m not a good son and I’m so sorry because I don’t ever want you to stop being my mother. You’re the best mother anyone could ever ask for and it doesn’t matter who I’m related to, you’ll always be the one I call ‘Mom,’ and I-“

But the apartment was empty. Bucky had been so preoccupied thinking of getting home to apologize to her that it didn’t occur to him that his mother may not be there. She had a full schedule at work too and Bucky stood in the kitchen of their small apartment wondering what exactly he was supposed to do now. 

He guessed that was how his eye caught on the picture on the fridge. The photo was taken of him and the-woman-he-had-always-assumed-was-his-mother at Niagara Falls back when Bucky was a preteen. He stepped over and pulled the thing off the fridge out of the middle of the grocery list, the magnet with the number for Stanley’s Pizza on it, another magnet in the shape of bagpipes, and a reminder from Natasha’s dance school about the upcoming performances for _The Nutcracker_.

And then he was crying again. It seemed all Bucky had become was a waterworks factory, sobbing at the drop of a hat. But in all the things he’d been warned about were coming during his teenage years, no one had ever mentioned a change of parents and loss of identity.It seems _everyone_ forgot that little detail. (Everyone had remembered to tell him puberty involved voice dropping, various hair growth, hormonal insanity, and skin breakouts, butnow he’d lost an arm not too long ago and was now losing a mother and in many ways his own self and he was pretty sure that no teacher, doctor, website, pamphlet, or movie had ever prepared him for those.)

Somewhere on the scale of things life was supposed to throw at one person, Bucky got the feeling that he was being thrown a double portion of bullshit and he wasn’t even that good of a bullshit catcher (Hockey was his sport. No catching of any kind involved.) so he fully assumed that this much thrown at him at once was bound to hit him hard, knock him unconscious, and leave him lying useless probably on an electric train track somewhere in the Bronx as he tried to run away from his life and failed miserably.

Bucky was sleeping uneasily, curled up on the sofa in the dark by the time Sarah Rogers got home that evening. She flipped on the light, took one look at Bucky, and dropped all of her things by the door to come and wrap her arms around him.

It was dark outside now and Bucky didn’t know how long he’d been wallowing in his own misery, but he wrapped his arms back around the-woman-he-had-always-assumed-was-his-mother and held on tight.

He tried to find the words he had practiced earlier that day, but everything even remotely articulate escaped him so all that came from his lips was a squeak and a snuffly noise and Sarah said, “Shh. It’s alright.”

She held onto him until Bucky’s arm felt drained of blood and tired and then she let him sit back on the sofa again and try to compose himself.

“James Buchanan Rogers,” she started off very carefully, “I love you more than you can ever understand. And I know you’re worried about this, but I don’t want you to work yourself up so much over it.The holidays are almost here and you have school to finish up. This is just a curve in the road. It does not define who you are.”

“Do you think I’m a horrible son?” he asked.

Sarah’s eyebrows shot up and she suddenly looked so concerned. She reached over to the end table and switched on the lamp light so they could see one another better.Her expression hardened and she cupped his face in both of her hands and said sternly, her Irish accent punctuating every word, “James, You. Are. The. Best. Thing. That. Has. Ever. Happened. To. Me.I have loved every day of being your mother. And I do not intend to stop now.”

Bucky heard her- periods after every word and all and tried to nod his head, but it was trapped between her hands.

Sarah let go and pulled him to her again and Bucky felt some of the stress leave his body.

 

*=*=*

 

Steve remembered when George and Winifred broke the news to him as _Die Vero_. The Day of Truth.

In retrospect, he may have been focusing too hard on his Latin homework when they distracted him for the Big News, but finals were coming up the next week, and he intended to do well on them.

“I’m what?” He asked, looking up from his desk to where they both sat on his neatly made bed. Or rather his _previously_ neatly made bed. To be honest, he hadn’t caught most of what they had said. He was still trying to conjugate verbs in his head and hadn’t expected the announcement to be so so big.

“Your mother tried to tell me for years,” his father continued. Or, well, his not-father continued.

Steve wasn’t quite sure how to think of them anymore. Part of him- the part he was trying to squish down- was telling him to run and cling to his parents and cry and tell them he couldn’t possibly belong anywhere else, this was his home.But a another part of him- the part Steve was trying to let be the voice of reason (the one trying to speak over the Latin conjugating he hadn’t quite stamped out yet)- was telling him that he could embrace this. Not everyone got a second chance to introduce themselves to their own parents.

“James has had the blood test and he’s our biological son,” George Barnes explained and Steve’s brow furrowed. “Which means-“

“I’m not,” Steve finished.He didn’t sound desperate at least. He sounded rather level-headed about the whole thing considering it was actually the most upside down thing anyone had ever told him.

His first response was to start laughing. And yeah, laughing isn’t really what his not-parents were expecting, but that’s what Steve did and then he said the craziest thing.

“You think when fish are at hatcheries or wherever and they’re just swimming around and being cool and then someone gets a net and scoops them out that this is what they feel like? When they’re dropped into an aquarium or whatever?I bet this is what they feel like.”

Fish. _Piscis_.

His brain was still at the Latin thing.

His not-parents both just looked at him kind of speechless and Steve’s brain continued.

 _Piscis Confusa._ Confused Fish.

“Maybe?” George replied.

“We thought you should get tested too. See if you’re really the son of the mother who had had James all these years.”

Steve tried to stamp out the noise in his head- the Roman guard bellowing a Latin decree that Steven G. Barneswas to report to his room, grab his suitcase, and pack his things immediately.

“Ad stipant,” Steve muttered to himself. “Something, something, statim.”

“To what immediately?” his not-father asked and Steve realized he’d been speaking out loud.

“Pack?” He asked. He set his pen down and looked at them as they sat together on his bed.

He was already in his room. Or his former room.

“Are you kicking me out?” he asked. And he hated that in that moment his brain said, “I can’t be kicked out right now. Where will I study?” but brains are weird things and that’s where Steve’s focus still was.

“Steve, no,” George replied. “You are always welcome here. But we thought you might want to know if she were your mother. Your real mother.”

 _Mater Realis._

Yeah. Because he was so close to the mother he already had. Someone to give an occasional check in on his schoolwork or not show up to his art exhibits or to make him dress up so he could sit quietly at dinner parties and look presentable or to ask him to watch his sister when Jackie wasn’t available. Sure, he wanted more of that.  Sign him up.

“Delightful,” he replied. “I haven’t had enough needles in my body. Let’s stick another one.”

And George frowned and Winifred pursed her lips and said, “Steve, don’t be like that,” but Steve was done with all of it.

“It’s fine. I’ll do it. I understand,” he said. “Now can I get back to studying?”

Winifred sighed and left the room and George stood up and looked at Steve.

“Don’t upset your mother more than she already is.”

“She’s not my mother,” Steve replied immediately. “She’s the elf’s mother.He seemed perky. Maybe he won’t upset her.”

George almost said more, but Steve turned back to his homework and the next word on the list of irregular verbs seemed to be taunting him.

 _īnesse_  
_īnsum, īnesse, īnfuī, īnfutum (irr.)_  
_to be in, to be involved in, to belong to_

Steve slammed the textbook and threw it across the room.  


*=*=*

 

Okay, so Steve had had maybe a million medical procedures done in his lifetime. During his childhood he had, he felt, tested every illness known to man. It certainly seemed he had tried out most of them. He recalled very distinct moments when he would be seemingly recovering from one illness and then magically catch another before he could get over the former. It had been the standard for most of his childhood. His parents had even pulled him out of school and paid for a tutor to homeschool him until partway through middle school.He remembered that almost every recovery was met with an intense feeling of curiosity. _What illness could possibly befall me next? I wonder if could go ahead and start medicating for it now?_

When he had been only a few months old, he had fallen ill with a respiratory infection that doctors had never seen before. And so had nearly three dozen other babies.It all happened to them within two or three weeks and was incredibly serious. His mother had agreed to let doctors and nurses at Lehigh Research Institute attempt to save his life, but he had to stay there with them until they could find the best way to treat and stop the infection.Babies were quarantined and even kept from their parents during the treatments.  He'd been told this, sure.  It seemed everyone in his family knew what a medical mess he'd been from the start.

It was somewhere during that time that he had gone home with the Barneses. He had been told about the experimental procedures they had done on him. Hell, Steve had those done on him his whole damn life, but he’d never been told about Winifred Barnes telling the doctors multiple times that he wasn’t her baby. Even after she finally relented and took him home, she rang the hospital for days to insist that there had been a mistake.

“It’s not a big deal,” the nurse now in front of Steve was saying. They’ll get one tube of blood, not even a big tube, and then send you on your way. It’ll just take. Few seconds.”

And Steve knew how blood tests worked. He'd had more taken in his lifetime than this nurse had given in hers probably. Which was evident by the way her brows furrowed a bit when he unbuttoned his shirt and slipped his arm out.

“You look like you’d had quite a bit of blood work done on this arm,” she commented.

Steve did not say, “No shit, Sherlock,” but he thought it.Steve’s inner arm was decorated in tiny light-colored scars all up and down the vein in the crook of his arm.

“Well, what does the other one look like?” she asked. “Maybe we should-“

“Worse,” Steve informed. “If you want, I can probably inject that on my own,” he said nodding to the needle and tube she was holding.“I’ve seen them do it like two thousand times.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t let you,” she answered and Steve shrugged.

“Kind of figured.”

“So you’re finding your dad?” she asked. “That sounds exciting.”

“Finding my mom,” he corrected, but then amended, “I’m adopted,” to keep her from asking anymore questions.

“Well, I hope you get the answers you want,” she replied and Steve thought that was a nice way to answer pretty much anyone doing any kind of remotely searchy thing ever.

The nurse tied his arm off and cotton swabbed it clean.She didn’t even tell him to relax before she injected him like most nurses did, but maybe she could tell Steve was a pro at this already.

There’s many things one can get used to over time- constant rain, incessant hiccuping, having a rock in your shoe that you can’t remove because you’re too busy running from a killer robot. Admittedly that last one is rare, but Steve figured it had happened to someone somewhere at some point in time...probably.

However, the one thing Steve was sure no one ever reeaaally got used to was having a hollow metal pin jammed into their body parts.Sure, he’d learned to sleep with them stuck into his hands and arms, but that didn’t mean he got used to them. He just endured.

The nurse doing the blood work now glanced up at him when she capped the tube and Steve knew without a doubt he was scowling.He’d read online that some clinics just used cheek swabs for these kinds of tests. Leave it to his grand ass luck to get sent to one that insisted on further collapsing his already butchered veins.

“All done,” the nurse piped and, um, yeah, Steve could see that, but thanks for stating the obvious.The nurse held a cotton ball to the injection site, pulled the rubber band off his upper arm, and then grabbed for the Co-Flex tape.“Red or green?”

“Red,” Steve stated quickly and it was weird how after so many years the color of a bandage still mattered to him, but he had learned that nothing irked him quite like a nurse not asking his color preference when choosing a wrapping tape for his wounds.

The nurse wrapped his arm and looked at him. “We’ll send this to the lab. Results take 48 hours.”

Steve nodded. “Thank you, ma’am.”

He walked from the clinic and out onto the busy street.He knew he was supposed to catch a cab straight home afterward, but there was a vendor selling ice cream bars directly across the street and some days Steve’s self-discipline was worse than that of a toddler.So he crossed the street and ordered himself one Sno-Cone and then turned back to the road to catch a cab.

His arm stung with a dull ache and his entire life was a lie, but hey, there was a pretty Sno-Cone in Steve’s hand now so he figured he’d escaped with only marginal complaints.

 

*=*=*  


Steve should have known no Sno-Cone would ease the feeling of his stomach dropping two days later when he received the sealed results in the mail.

But for what it was worth, he thought he should maybe contact the one other person who may know what he was feeling.

“So are we going to meet them or what’s the plan?” he asked George one evening after dinner.

“I suppose so,” George replied. “And I don’t think we should do it the way your mother tried before.”

“Mom tried to meet them?”

“Your mother got escorted out of the Atlantic Terminal Mall.They probably would have put her on trespass notice if she hadn’t had the sense to just walk away and collect herself.”

“I take it it didn’t go so well.”

“She freaked the poor kid out from what I understand.”

Steve had always had an easier time talking with his dad. Maybe it was because he didn’t see the man often and so when he did, they tried to keep things friendly and light-hearted. But at least now that this serious situation had come up, their previously established amiability served them well.

“I can't believe this is what I get for letting Becca meet Santa Claus.  It was just one elf picture.  I didn't expect to have to rearrange my life.”(Becca had shown everyone the elf picture by now, even their grandmother who had mumbled in Yiddish and covered her brow dramatically.  Maybe that was where Steve had gotten that side of himself.  Nurture rather than nature.)

His father seemed to shrug a bit and looked at him. “Nevertheless that’s him.”

“Seriously? The elf?  Your real son is a Christmas elf?”

George nodded. “Yeah, that’s James.”

Steve only hesitated a second. “Does he know he’s Jewish?”

 

*=*=*

 

“I’m agreeing to meeting them because I know I need to, but is she going to go crazy on me again? How do I respond to that?” Bucky asked as he placed dishes in the sink.

“Bucky, remember how I said you over process?” Sarah responded instead.  "That you shouldn't get so worked up?"

“I know, I know, I just-“ Bucky shrugged his shoulders dramatically and did the world’s most exaggerated sigh.

“Did her children seem any better?  Less crazy?"”

“Her children weren’t there,” Bucky responded. He turned on the sink and started rinsing off the dishes. (Since the day of his breakdown, he had been doing everything in his power to prove he was a good son.)

“Winifred said you met them one day at work.You took a picture for them?”

“Oh, well, that really narrows it down,” Bucky said sarcastically.

“She said her daughter was upset so you took a picture with her.”

“ _With_ her?” Bucky clarified, voice raised to reach over the running water. And maybe raised partially in surprise as well because _that_  really did narrow it down.

“The little Jewish girl who was upset Santa never came to see her?”

Sarah made a sound of agreement.

Bucky barely lost a second before, “WAIT. SO AM _I_ JEWISH?!”  
  
Sarah didn't say anything as Bucky let that settle in.  Only that revelation was also followed with, “Oh my god, Ma, I think the hot guy I was telling you about is your real son.”


	3. The Part Tertius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Bucky, I have watched you flirt with pretzel vendors, celebrities, neighbors, stuffed animals, cartoon characters, statues, paintings, and brick walls. You are perfectly capable of talking to him. Don’t even try to pretend you’re not."

Bucky's wasn’t sure what the protocol was for when you think your mom's should-be-actual-son is kind of hot.But he does assume it wasn’t saying such in front of her during the middle of him rinsing dishes.

“Ooohh,” she replied half-teasing and half-intrigue.

Bucky considered that maybe the floor would swallow him up. He did hear about a place in Hell’s Kitchen were the floor fell in and the family’s sofa fell into the floor below with the family still sitting on it. He’d accept that right now if that’s all the world was willing to offer. Just allow the floor to cave in directly where he was standing please and thank you.

“Well, look then, fate is going to let you see him again after all.”

“Nooo!” Bucky screeched and okay, not the best move when talking about your mother’s child (other child? Should-be child?), but Bucky wasn’t quite sure how to handle this situation and at least Sarah took it with a smile.

“I thought you’d like a second chance to meet him outside of your costume.”

“No, Ma, no,” Bucky said with a dramatic shake of his head. “No, because if I meet him then I have to talk to him and I’m weird and awkward!”

“Bucky, I have watched you flirt with pretzel vendors, celebrities, neighbors, stuffed animals, cartoon characters, statues, paintings, and brick walls.You are perfectly capable of talking to him. Don’t even try to pretend you’re not. You’re only ‘weird and awkward’ when talking to adults.”

“And Jewish-not-really, adopted-not-really, attractive and muscley blonds who meet me while I’m in tights!”

Sarah laughed, but arched an eyebrow at him. “Well, I arranged for us to meet this Sunday so you should maybe think about what you’re going to say to them so you’re not ‘weird and awkward.’”  
  
And Bucky propped his arm on the edge of the sink, and placed his head down on it, as it as he made pitiful, whiney sounds for a moment.  It didn't help.  
  
He knew things were missing from their lives.  Everyone's missing something, right?  Bucky was missing something distinctly arm-shaped and maybe Sarah was missing something distinctly Steve-shaped.  Maybe Bucky was missing something distinctly Steve-shaped too.  
  
  
*=*=*  
  


Steve remembered the day he met Bucky pretty much as strongly as the day he met his own mother. Re-met her? Either way, he called it Mater Exchange (He didn’t know the Latin for “exchange” and couldn’t be bothered to look it up now that finals were over).

But Bucky wasn’t his “mater.”Bucky was just this really hot guy who was going through the same out-of-body experience that he was.And they didn’t really exchange mothers at all so maybe it needed a new name altogether. (Latin was exhausting and Steve was on Winter Break.)

Steve and Bucky met first. That was the rule they had worked out with their parents.  This was about them so they wanted to call the shots.

Steve was formal about it in a way Bucky was sure he wouldn’t have been.

“It’s nice to meet you again,” he smiled, holding out his hand as he stepped into the lobby of the restaurant where they’d chosen to meet.  It was a little nicer than anything Bucky would have chosen.  Steve didn't seem to notice.

Bucky shook his hand almost awkwardly. Did teenagers shake hands? Was that another thing Bucky had missed out on learning at some point?  Maybe he's missing that lesson while he was out of school for losing an arm.  (Maybe all of your friends learning to shake hands while you simultaneously lost one was a bit too ironic.)

“I’m Steve,” he introduced, but then shook his head. “You knew that.”

“Bucky,” Bucky replied. “Or James, but please don’t call me that.”

“I won’t,” Steve assured and then motioned to the host. “We’re ready.”

Something Steve noticed quickly was that Bucky wasn’t the slightest bit interested in learning about Winifred which was a shame because Steve wanted to know everything about Sarah.

But there was one thing Bucky wanted to know.

“What’s our Dad like?”

And that question struck Steve as odd for two reasons:

The first being that Bucky didn’t say, “my dad,” or “your dad.”He’d said, “our dad.”

And the second being that it seemed to be the most pressing matter on Bucky’s mind.

Steve must’ve hesitated thinking about it too long because Bucky kind of shrugged and said, “I’ve- Ive never had one so...”

And yeah, Steve had been told that, had been told his birth father had passed away many years ago, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it yet, but he realized he and Bucky had something to share so he smiled and leaned forward and said, “He’s uh- well, he’s not home a lot. He works all over the world, but when he is home, it’sthe absolute best.”

They’d stayed far longer than they’d expected, talking about their parents- sharing things about their mothers.Steve talked about going to dinner parties, but having the greatest vacations.Bucky talked about he and his mom cooking together and taking weekend camping trips to Bear Mountain.  
  
It was going so well that Bucky was beginning to mentally refer to it as "my first date with Mr. Right" when Steve asked, “So... Are you going to teach me how to be Catholic?”

And Bucky replied, “One step at a time. You teach me to be Jewish and I’ll show you how to be Catholic. And we can take it one holiday at a time. Fair?”

"Perfect!" Steve nodded enthusiastically and picked up the dessert menu.

He waved the menu at Bucky and said, “Strict kosher diets are difficult. Additives can be tricky. You better stay away from all of this.”

Bucky’s face fell.  He looked like Steve had just kicked his puppy when Steve laughed.

“Just kidding. We don’t follow any of that.”  
  
At the end of it all, Bucky reported that his "First date with his future husband" had been successful and Sarah had just buried her face in her hands.

 

=*=*=

 

The day of the “Mater Exchange” had Steve changing clothes no fewer than six times before his father said, “She won’t be looking at your clothes, Steve.Just pick something.”

George had decided to stay behind and meet Bucky after he and his mother had reunited. It had always been Winifred that had been so distraught and upset over the mix up. George had always taken things in stride so when the revelation came out that Steve wasn’t his biological son, he’d smiled at Steve and said, “I guess I get two of you now. That should make game days even more fun, huh?”

And Steve had realized his dad was suggesting they go to a Yankees game like they hadn’t done together in at least two years, but that they used to do whenever his dad was home during baseball season so he got a really big smile on his face and answered, “Absolutely. Yes!”

And George’s only fear had come when his eyes went wide and he asked Steve, “What if he’s a Mets fan?”

 

=*=*=

 

Bucky dressed in black slacks and a white button down before presenting himself to his mother.

“It isn’t mass, Bucky,” Sarah said softly, “Why don’t you wear something you’ll be comfortable in?”

So Bucky changed into a blue Henley and some black jeans and presented himself to her again with a flourish of his hand like he was both a game show model and also a new car.

Sarah nodded. “There’s the Bucky I know.”She was wearing soft white pants and a maroon sweater and the pearls Bucky had saved up to buy her for her birthday.He’d gotten them on sale, but they were still $149 even then so he’d worked his ass off for them. It made him feel like he achieved something special every time she wore them.

 

=*=*=

 

“Do I look like a princess?” Becca asked as she stood in Steve’s doorway and twirled around in the black and cream dress her mother had dressed her in. Jackie always dressed Steve when he was younger, but Winifred dressed Rebecca.

“You look beautiful.”

“Can I come in your room?” (There was a rule for that too. No going into Steve’s room without permission. It was the only way he could get any time to himself otherwise.)

“Are you excited?” Steve asked as he motioned for her to come in and she nodded until her hair was a mess.

“He’s pretty cool,” Steve assured her.

“Are you excited, Stevie?” Becca asked back as she came to stand next to him and watch him finish getting ready.She was at the age where she repeated back most questions asked to her.Most days it was cute, but Steve’s heart was beating irregularly already and he was considering telling Jackie because he was pretty there was a pill he could take for that even if she would tell him it was probably just nerves.

“I’m kind of nervous, Bec.I’m meeting my mom, you know.”

Becca shook her head.“No, brotherrr,” she stressed.

“Not me,” Steve said, looking down at her.

They hadn’t explained anything to her about Steve and Bucky being switched. They hadn’t been sure how to breach the topic except to tell her, “Before you were born, Mommy had another baby named James and he doesn’t live here and Mommy misses him very much so we’re going to go meet him and meet the mommy that’s been taking care of him.”

That was mostly more than she could process as it was.

“ _Verbum Infantilis_ ,” Steve’s brain supplied as he finished tying his tie and looked down to his younger sister.“Baby words,” he whispered to himself and Becca said clearly,

“I’m not a baby,” so clearly Steve hadn't said it quietly enough.

“I know you’re not,” he replied and looked over to the desk chair and then to the bed. He decided to mess up his neatly made bed and sat down on it, pulling Rebecca up on the duvet next to him.

“Remember how we said that you had a brother and another mommy had been taking care of him?”

Becca nodded.

“The mommy that has been taking care of him is my real mommy. And our mommy has been taking care of me, but I’m not her real son.”

Becca seemed to look perplexed and Steve couldn’t blame her. It would be confusing to anyone who heard it, but at least adults could figure it out.Steve imagined Becca’s brain was feeling like tangled up spaghetti trying to make heads or tails out of what he’d just said.

“I’m going to go meet my real mommy tonight.”

Becca must have decided the best way to handle it was to decide Steve was joking because she laughed and said, “No, silly! You already _have_  a mommy!”

And so Steve stopped trying to explain it almost immediately and instead just said, “I’m going to have two mommies, I think.”

“And a new brother!” Becca sing-songed as she pulled on Steve’s tie until he was right down in her face. Then she sat there with their faces so close that their vision blurred and both had one giant eye instead of two and it made their eyes hurt to keep looking at one another.“New brother,” she hummed with a laugh and hopped off the bed to twirl around again.

Steve just shook his head.God no, he didn’t want to think of Bucky as his brother. Bucky was far too attractive for Steve to have to think of him as a brother.Bucky was 100% unrelated to him and that’s how he needed to continue thinking so he didn’t feel squicked by the crush he was quickly developing on the other boy.

“Becca, you’re the silly one,” he called over his shoulder as he got up and went to readjust his tie. “Go make sure you’re ready to go. Check with mom.”

Becca raced from the room and Steve undid the tie to retie it. 

“ _Non fratrum_ ,” he muttered to himself as he reassured himself that Bucky wasn’t even remotely related to him. “Definitely _non fratrum_.”

 

=*=*=

 

The second longest hug Bucky had ever received came from Winifred Barnes when she was finally allowed to squish the life out of him with open-armed permission. It didn’t break the record held by the time Sarah grabbed him up the moment the doctors had told her she could see him after his accident, but it was damn near close and Bucky really was starting to wonder if someone was going get a crowbar to pry her off by the time she finally moved away.

His heart was beating out of his chest and his hair was a mess by the time she finished crying into it and he felt like he still might throw up from nervousness when she finally backed away enough to get another good look at him.

She’d rushed up to him at almost a run and then held herself back. She didn’t touch him at first, perhaps remembering the mall, but then she’d asked, “May I hug you?” Bucky had opened his arms hesitantly and was immediately locked into an embrace he could not have predicted would be so smothering and awkward.

But Steve- Steve knew the hug Sarah Rogers wrapped him in while perhaps not being the longest, was the best he had ever received.

“It’s you,” she had said, tears and laughter at once and then cupped his face with both of her hands to get a good look at him.

“You look like my sister’s boys,” she laughed and then hugged him again.

“Really?” Steve squeaked and oh- was he an emotional wreck too? That was unexpected, but he'd never looked like anyone in his family before so he thought he was allowed to cry over this if he wanted.

Rebecca wasn’t sure what to make of the situation so the first person Steve hugged, she hugged too. And Sarah was all too happy to say, “You must be Rebecca,” and hug her back.

When she was directed toward Bucky, he knelt down onto the carpet.“Remember me?” he asked and she looked hesitant.  "We met at the mall?"

“Where’s your hat?” she asked looking his hair over. Bucky had left his hair down today and imagined it did look quite different to a small child.

“I left it with Santa to come and see you,” he said and then held out his arms to her. “Can I have a hug?”

Becca sprang into his arms nearly knocking him backwards and they all laughed.

“He’s great with children. He’s always been an only child before,” Sarah said, watching Bucky hold onto the little girl and vice versa.

When Sarah and Winifred both had greeted their boys, Sarah turned to Winifred and held out her arms again.It hadn’t been what Winifred was expecting, but she moved closer and embraced the other woman.

“Thank you,” Sarah started and had to wipe at tears some more, thankful that she’d remembered to shove a few tissues in her coat pockets specifically for crying onto.“Thank you. For years I imagined something tragic had happened to him.I had no idea-“

“I tried to tell the doctors there’d been a mistake,” Winifred replied. “They insisted I just didn’t recognize my son anymore because babies change a lot during the treatments.But I knew.”

She looked at Bucky again and Steve looked at Sarah.

“This is so surreal,” Sarah managed, turning back toward the boys, her eyes darting back and forth between them as she wiped at her tears with a tissue and offered one to Steve.“You’re here.Both of you and I didn’t ever imagine that was possible.”

As of on cue, both boys stepped up to hug her at once and she wrapped her arms around them, clinging to both of them.Steve stuck his arm out to beckon Winifred closer and then the four of them were in one big group hug with Rebecca rushing up to cling to Steve’s leg and hip awkwardly.

By the end, they all were crying (though Becca was most likely just crying because she was confused and thought it was what she was supposed to do).Steve and Bucky were crying from being so overwhelmed. And Winifred and Sarah were crying from having more than they had ever believed could come true in front of them -two grown, warm, alive, healthy boys.

 

*=*=*  
  
  


The mothers settled down and the boys settled down all together in a little room off to the side of the main room of the coffee shop where they were meeting. It was a good, welcoming room with plush furniture where they could talk. Steve and Bucky were proud of themselves for coming up with it when they had decided it would be best to meet on neutral ground.

At first Winifred had been reluctant. It was always best to be comfortable when planning to hang out for a long period of time, but a coffee shop didn’t sound like her speed and the impending doom of being watched by Brooklynite hipsters all evening didn’t thrill her.She’d only caved at Steve’s insistence that it would “make Bucky more comfortable since he suggested it in the first place.”

Becca crawled up first in Winifred’s lap, but then seemed to note that Steve’s chair looked more comfortable and she switched instead over to his lap.

“Can I sit with you?” she asked, adjusting herself in his lap.  
  
“Kind of looks like you already are,” Steve answered honestly and she didn’t get the humor so she settled back against his chest and ignored him.Even before the server came to take their coffee orders, they started in on sharing information.There was a lot of ground to cover in the last seventeen or so years and asking someone to cover multiple life stories in the space of an evening was asking quite a lot so nobody minded that they jumped right in.  
  
“Why do you go by Bucky?”  
  
“My name is James Buchanan and Bucky is the nickname my dad had wanted.Or rather,” Bucky had paused and looked at Steve.“I guess the nickname he’d wanted for you.You’re supposed to be the Bucky.”  
  
“Look, I’ve used this name for almost eighteen years.I’m not changing it now,” Steve quipped back with a smile which is when the realization hit Sarah that there was an important piece of information missing.  
  
“Steve,” she’d questioned, trying to keep her voice even.“When do you think your birthday is?”  
  
“I’ll be eighteen March tenth,” he’d replied, confused at first and then catching up when his eyes widened.“Holy shit, no! _You’ll_ be eighteen March tenth!” he said, finger pointed at Bucky.  
  
“Steven, language,” Winifred warned.  
  
“You’ll be eighteen on what I thought was my birthday.Wait.When is _my_  birthday?!”  
  
Sarah didn’t reply.She was looking at Bucky whose face had gone white and was now looking more queasy than ever.  
  
“Bucky?” she said carefully.  
  
“James?” Winifred echoed.  
  
“My name is Bucky,” he managed and then right as the server returned to the room with their drinks in hand, he felt the sheer panic wash over him.“I don’t want to live with you,” he stammered immediately.He pushed himself up from the plush chair and his legs felt like jelly.It was everything he could do to get them to carry him across the room, almost running into the server with their drink tray in hand as he made his escape.  
  
“Bucky!” Sarah called, moving to get up, but Steve had popped Becca back onto her feet and was after Bucky before he made it to the door.  
  
“Hey, hey,” he called and Steve considered later that maybe he shouldn’t have touched Bucky, but he reached out his hand to Bucky’s shoulder and the other boy turned around swinging.  
  
Luckily for Steve, he’d been in enough fights to dodge Bucky’s fist easily.He watched as Bucky’s eyes darted all around and then his knees dropped him.Steve caught him easily enough right there in the doorway between one room of the coffee shop and the next.  
  
Bucky wanted to fight him off, but instead he found himself crying again and saying, “I don’t want to move.I want to stay where I am.I want to stay with my mom.”  
  
And Steve just held him, ignoring the fact that they were blocking the walkway and ignoring the fact that people were staring at Bucky’s breakdown.  
  
“You don’t have to move.Why would you think you had to move?” he asked and Bucky was trying not to do this lost composure thing here, but this was the definition of failing miserable.  
  
“You’re not eighteen.I mean, _I’m_ not eighteen so I have to do whatever she says, right? ‘Cause I’mstill a minor?”

“No one is going to tell you what to do, Buck,” Steve assured.His voice sounded more sure than Bucky was sure his own had all evening.“You stay wherever you want.You live wherever makes you comfortable.”  
  
“I want to stay where I am,” Bucky squeaked and Steve couldn’t help himself.  
  
“In the floor of this coffee shop?”  
  
That got a laugh out of Bucky.And then he was shoving Steve back off of him even though the moment he did his brain supplied, “Hey, he was holding you! That was really nice!”

Steve backed off and stood up, offering his hand to Bucky whose legs still felt like jello, but he stood up anyway and ambled back to the seats as he wiped at his face.This time, he took the spot on the love seat beside Sarah and managed a few deep breaths.Rebecca looked him up and down and seemed to assess the situation before deciding that she should sit with Bucky so she climbed up and sat beside him, taking his flesh hand in her own small ones.Bucky squeezed her hand as a thank you.  
  
“Your birthday is in July.July 4th actually.You’re already eighteen,” he told Steve.  
  
“When you came home,” Winifred told Steve, trying to move past the moment for Bucky, “I kept saying, ’This baby is too small.’I certainly never would have believed you were older than he was!” she laughed.  
  
“He was born premature,” Sarah added.“Steve was the tiniest baby in the NICU.It terrified us.”  
  
“He was tiny?” Bucky asked, looking Steve’s body up and down now.  
  
And they all laughed because really, Steve was well on his way to being a very fit and muscular young man.  
  
“I’ve worked hard for this body!” Steve defended.“I get up and go running before school every morning.I lift weights after school.”  
  
“I used to enjoy working out,” Bucky commented.“Then I just lost a bunch of weight unintentionally.”He looked very pointedly at his left side.  
  
“Do you mind if I ask what happened?” Winifred questioned before holding her hand out, “But you don’t have to say if it’s a touchy subject.”  
  
Bucky decided to take a page from Steve’s book and try to lighten the mood a little more so he said, “It was a horrible accident in the toy making factory and now Santa has to pay my workers’ comp bills.”


	4. The Part Quartus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve called his new task, “Hanukkah Lektsyes” because that’s what his (Bucky’s??) Grandmother Hubbard had called it.  
> Bucky called his “Teaching Steve the Obvious Shit” because, really, who didn’t know about Christmas?

 

Steve called his new task, “ _Hanukkah Lektsyes_ ” because that’s what his (Bucky’s??) Grandmother Hubbard had called it when Steve had introduced her to Bucky and told her about his plans to teach him their traditions.

“Hanukkah Lessons,” she had said to Bucky in English and he repeated it back pretty pathetically, but hey, he had to start somewhere.

Bucky called his “Teaching Steve the Obvious Shit” because, really, who didn’t know about Christmas?

The answer to that question (which Bucky originally thought was rhetorical) was actually one Steven G. Barnes (Rogers?). 

Because Christmas was the holiday that was in everyone’s faces in December, Bucky kind of felt like Steve should know everything that mattered anyway so it surprised him when he said, “Oh, so there’s a religious reason for the gifts? I thought it was just Santa.”

“No, no, it’s totally because the wise men brought gifts to Jesus. Santa just kind of stole their thunder.”

“So where did Santa come from? Somewhere Spanish? Italian? Santa? Like Saint?”

“I think it was Asia Minor,” Bucky said. “Wherever that is in present day.Santa Claus just just another version of the name Saint Nicholas.Nicholas was a real saint. And he had tons of money and he was super kind and generous. So he gave gifts to people. But there were other origins too.Like Kris Kringle is actually from a German name for this angel who delivers children gifts.That’s where the ‘no peeking’ thing comes from too. If you stay up waiting to peek, you don’t get any gifts.”

“Seems harsh.”

“You gotta abide by rules, Steve.”Bucky pulled out a box of ornaments that they’d brought from their storage unit earlier that day and opened it.

“I bet St. Nicholas would let you ‘peek’ at him being ...saintly,” Steve said with a shrug.“He’d just, you know, show you how it’s done.”

“I think being good is supposed to be instinctual,” Bucky reminded and somewhere from the apartment kitchen Sarah laughed.

“Where was your ‘being good’ instinct throughout all of elementary and middle school and half of high school?” she called.She was making cookies because Bucky had already told Steve that they always have warm cookies and decorate the tree together every year.

“I was being good!” Bucky called back.“I still maintain that every fight I got into was because I was being good!I was defending other kids and standing up for them and-“

“Uh huh, and crowning yourself King of Detention and me the Ruler of Parent Teacher Conferences.”   
  
Steve laughed and looked between Bucky and where Sarah was across the way.“No way,I totally got into all kinds of fights too.I used to get in so much trouble.”

“But were they justified fights?” Bucky asked, “Because if so-“

“Oh, they totally were!Like bullies and people who-”

“See, Ma!It’s totally normal.”  
  
“I don’t know if I would say ‘normal’,” Steve reasoned, “My teachers and parents don’t seem to think it’s ‘normal.’But I get it.”

“Some people just need to be punched,” Bucky agreed and then looked at his mother. “Hey, Ma, can we make wassail? We need to drink to my newfound fighting friend.  He'd almost said, 'Newfound fighting fiancé," but had caught himself just in time to not scare Steve off just yet.

“Are you sure we need to drink to that?” Sarah asked the same moment Steve asked,

“What’s wassail?” as he looked over at the box of ornaments Bucky had pulled out.

“Apple cider kind of drink. It’s a Christmas drink. You have to try it. Holiday rules.”

“It’s isn’t usually served with cookies,” Sarah said. “It’s usually served with toast. You want me to make you some of that too?”

“Is that going to add to my holiday experience? Because I came for the whole experience,” Steve replied. 

This was his first trip to the apartment where Sarah and Bucky lived. They had lived there since Bucky had been a toddler and Steve had been shown around in all of about thirty seconds.  Steve was supposed to visit today as their first “get together” in the series of events they had planned so going over the original Christmas story (check!) and then putting up the tree (half check-tree assembled, but not decorated) had seemed like a good jumping off point.

“There’s no rules for decorating trees,” Bucky began, reaching in and pulling out a glass bell ornament. “You just hang things on whichever limbs look the best to you. And fill in the whole tree so there’s no gaps.”

Steve picked up a sparkling snowman-shaped ornament and walked over to the tree with it. Bucky did the same and hung the glass bell onto the first naked limb before going back for another one.

Steve seemed to study the tree for a minute. There had to be some kind of rules to this even if they were unspoken and even if Bucky didn’t realize they existed. Steve didn’t know how prominent a snowman needed to be. Should it be on a main branch where everyone could see it easily or should it be one of the more elusive ornaments you had to step closer to the tree to really take in?

“Anywhere,” Bucky reminded when Steve obviously stood there too long peering at empty branches.

Steve reached out to a branch quickly and fit the ribbon tied onto the ornament over the end of it.For the first time, it struck him as really odd that anyone would chop down a tree and bring it into their home to decorate or in Sarah and Bucky’s case, have a completely fake tree in an effort to pretend that they had chopped down a tree and brought it inside to decorate. What a bizarre holiday.

“Okay. But why do you decorate trees? What’s the importance?Did the wisemen put Jesus’s gifts under a tree?”

Bucky shook his head. “Okay, honestly? I have no idea. We just do?”

“That’s because the trees didn’t start out as Christmas traditions,” Sarah said as she brought the boys a warm plate of cookies. “It’s a Yule tradition that was adopted by Christians.I think it’s German. You know, _Oh Tannenbaum_.”

“Even you’re learning something,” Steve said to Bucky who just squinted his eyes a bit and seemed to consider that.

“I’m on Winter Break. This learning stuff has got to stop,” he decided before plucking up another ornament and holding it out.

“Like macaroni art,” Steve grinned as he eyed it. “A masterpiece, I’m sure.”

Bucky nodded and held up the ornament so his mother could see. “My _David_ , really.  I should donate this to MoMA.”

“Hey, I love that ornament,” Sarah said, gently taking the popsicle stick creation and walking over to the tree herself. It was three popsicle sticks glued together to make a triangle shape and then colored green and covered in buttons and a star.

“A Christmas tree on the Christmas tree,” Steve noted with a nod of his head.

“Making handmade ornaments is pretty much a rite of passage for anyone under the age of ten, maybe twelve. If you’re especially talented, you can make them after that, but those of us not so gifted in the art department have to give it up at that point. Bucky made that particular one when he was four.”

“Becca’s four,” Steve commented, glancing again at where Sarah had placed the ornament and then back at his mother.“We make Stars of David using popsicle sticks.”  
  
“Well, of course,” Bucky grinned.“Popsicle sticks are the medium of choice for anyone under the age of seven.”  
  
“And after that,” Sarah supplied, “You graduate to pipe cleaners and beads.”She held up an ornamental snowflake made of those materials and Bucky groaned.  
  
“Maaaaaa!”

Steve hadn’t decided what to call her yet, but he kept hearing Bucky easily say, “Ma!” and it kind of sounded like a good name.He called Winifred “Mom” so it would make them distinguishable enough in his mind without him having to resort to awkwardly calling his mother by her name.  
  
“Could !-“ he started and then licked his lips.“Could I call you that?Ma?Like he does?”  
  
Sarah grinned as the kettle went off to announce the wassail was ready.  
  
“I would love that.”

 

  
  
*=*=*

 

Hanukkah started at sundown and Bucky was at the Barnes’s incredibly nice townhouse being offered latkes before he’d had time to hand Jackie his coat.  
  
“I don’t even know what that is,” Bucky admitted sheepishly.  
  
“You ever had a potato cake?” Steve asked.  
  
Bucky nodded.  
  
“You ever had hash browns?”  
  
Bucky nodded again.“Yeah.”  
  
“It’s not either of those,” Steve supplied,“But it lives in that neighborhood.It’s like the sweeter, crispier, oilier cousin of those.And it will make you hate those for trying to imitate it and failing horrendously.”

“Well, now I have to have one.”  
  
“I’ve only been able to eat them the last few years because when I was a kid, I had an egg allergy and they’re cooked with eggs so…”  
  
“You couldn’t eat eggs?" Bucky's eyes widened in horror. "So like, no birthday cakes?What did you eat for your birthday?”  
  
“A plate of sorrow.”  
  
“Don’t listen to him,” Grandmother Hubbard spoke up as she walked from the kitchen and into the main room.“I baked him a cake without eggs every year for his birthday.”  
  
Steve went over and made a big show of hugging her.“Thank you, Bubbe.You’re the only one who cared!”  
  
“He’s always so dramatic,” she said to Bucky while reaching out and putting an arm around both him and Steve.“But I wouldn’t let my grandson go without a birthday cake.Speaking of, I hear your birthday is coming up in a few months.What kind of cakes do you like?”  
  
Bucky was so surprised that he didn’t even know how to answer.“Are there Jewish types of cakes?What am I supposed to say?”  
  
“Pahh-“ Grandmother Hubbard laughed.“I don’t care about traditions, boy.I want to know about you.“  
  
Bucky smiled a little timidly and then said, “Chocolate?”  
  
Grandmother Hubbard nodded.“Chocolate.That’s more like it.Now Steve, she said, nudging her other grandson, why don’t you go and find this boy a kippah so we can get things started tonight?”  
  
  
*=*=*  
  
  
“What’s a _kippah_?” Bucky whispered as Steve led him down the hallway.  
  
“A yarmulke?” Steve tried, motioning to the one on his own head.“The little caps that we wear to temple or to funerals or holidays to show reverence.”  
  
“She wasn’t wearing one.Do women not have to show reverence?”  
  
“They can if they want,” Steve said, opening the door to his room and motioning Bucky in before him, “But they don’t have to.It’s not a traditional thing for women.”  
  
“Seems weird,” Bucky murmured, knowing Steve wouldn’t judge if he voiced his mind.Steve seemed cool like that.  
  
“Nobody expects women to wear ties either,” Steve pointed out as he opened his closet door and started reaching around on the top shelf.“But if they do, no one really cares.It’s a personal thing.”

He grabbed two suede kippahs and tossed one at Bucky.He fished around for bobby pins and pinned his own on while looking in his mirror and then motioned Bucky over.  
  
Bucky examined the thing and then placed it gently on his head. 

“Yep, and you just-“Steve’s hands took a bit of Bucky’s hair and pinned the cover to his scalp.“You’ve got the softest hair ever.”  
  
Bucky blushed a little.“Coconut oil.”

Steve ran his fingers down a silky lock and then pulled his hand back quickly, looking at the carpet to hide his own embarrassment. "You're good now."

 

*=*=*

 

The first night of Hanukkah was the most educational with Bucky asking questions constantly.  
  
“It took them three years to get back to the temple?” (“Yeah, and they still fought for like twenty more years even after that!”) and “Did all of them survive?” (“No, they all died in battle except Shimon.”) and “Which tribe are we descended from? Do we know?” (“Yes, Judah.”)

And the fact that Becca got to light the first candle on the menorah kind of set everyone on edge.  
  
“Please be careful, honey,” her mother said after Becca had insisted on doing it herself without a bit of help.The shamash candle had wavered in her fingers and the entire Barnes family found out how long they could hold their breaths.Turns out, it takes a remarkably long time for a four-year-old to light a single candle when she’s moving slow as molasses and thinks that’s the definition of “being careful.”  
  
Bucky had never felt very connected to the prayers and recitations he’d heard and been taught in mass and Sunday school classes through his childhood, but somehow standing there in the little circle of family members listening to Yiddish prayers he didn’t even understand, he felt humbled and connected to the people there in a way he hadn’t understood before.  
  
It’s probably why he went home that night with a smile and told his mother, “That was amazing.”  
  
“It was?” she asked and Bucky was pleased that she seemed genuinely happy to hear it.  
  
“And they gave me a present,” he said with a smile as he fished a bag out of his pocket.“I’ll share it with you.”

“Is that the coffee you liked from the shop we went to?”

“Yes, it is.Did you knows Jews give gifts on all eight nights of Hanukkah?Santa needs to step it up.”

“You watch it,” Sarah retaliated.“I know Santa’s number and I can just call and tell him not to come the one night.”  
  
“You forget,” Bucky said with a smirk.“I work for Santa and I _earn_ my gifts.”  
  
“No, you earn a paycheck.That’s not the same thing!” his mother laughed as Bucky kissed her cheek loudly and headed off to get ready for bed.

  
  
*=*=*  
  


Bucky refers to the second night of his first Hanukkah as The Scariest Holiday of My Life.Steve calls that being a tad overdramatic and Bucky thinks Steve is just a pot calling a kettle black on that one.

  
“Hope you brought your pyro side with you,” Steve greeted when Bucky walked through the door that evening.“It’s your night to light the menorah.”  
  
“Why me?” Bucky squeaked.(He’d worn the yarmulke Steve had given him from the night before.He’d started off wondering if everyone on the train was looking at him, but then he realized that pretty much no one on the train was looking at him (which he was cool with considering most people stared at the prosthetic anyway and tonight no one seemed interested in either).

“Because you’re the next youngest,” Steve said.“And it goes in order.”

“What if I screw it up?!” Bucky asked and Winifred came into the room practically laughing.

“You’re as melodramatic as Steve is sometimes!”  
  
“You can’t really screw it up, Buck,” Steve added.“You just put two candles instead of one, light the second candle, and then light the one like we did last night.It’s easy.”  
  
“What if I’m actually the one that sets the house on fire?” he asked, but Winifred just replied.

“What if we have insurance?”

Still Bucky’s hand shook worse than Becca’s had when he picked up the servant candle.He wanted to make a joke or something to make him feel better, but it seemed out of place.The fire at the end of the candle heated up his fingers and he felt his whole chest seize as he reached to light the first one. 

He was gonna drop this thing.He’d lit dozens of birthday candles over the years, but he was going to drop this candlestick and light the Barnes’s ridiculously nice place on fire.Then they would never speak to him again and he’d go to prison for arson, but he was a juvenile again so he could always hope against hope that they’d send him to juvie and he could get out before he was ancient.

“Mom’s a judge.She won’t let you go to prison,” Steve said with a warm laugh and Bucky jumped. Damn, he needed to learn to keep his thoughts inside his head instead of babbling monologues during mitzvahs.And why was Steve so close to his shoulder?At this point, if he dropped the shamash, he was going to catch _Steve_ on fire.

When the second candle had been lit and the shamash returned to the middle of the candelabra, Bucky took a deep breath and felt Steve’s hand come up to land on his backside, right over his shoulder blade and somehow the room got far hotter than it had just a moment ago when the fire had been near his skin.

  
*=*=*

“The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,” Steve quoted as he was handed his own stocking from Sarah.It was fuzzy and velvet and reminded Steve of something out of a magazine.  She had had his name embroiled across the top and Steve sat staring at it a moment.  "I've heard that so many times, but this is surreal."

“We don’t have a chimney,” Bucky shrugged regrettably.“So we just hang them along the shelf over here.  Somewhere that makes it easy for Santa to do his reverse thievery.”  
  
"Reverse thievery?  You mean where he breaks in and leaves stuff instead of takes it?"  Steve looked at where Bucky had motioned and noticed a small shelf with hooks for hanging coats. They’d repurposed it and had placed Christmas decorations on it.

“Yep.  So we just-“ Bucky hung his stocking up on one of the hooks and looked at Steve.

Almost excitedly Steve hung his on a second hook and then Sarah reached and added hers.

“We’ve gotta get one for your sister,” Bucky said before catching himself. “My sister? I’m not used to saying that yet.”

They’d come from Steve’s house to Bucky’s after they’d exchanged gifts that evening and switched holidays in the process.

“No one is used to this yet,” Steve agreed. “I was trying to tell my friend Sam about it and I kept messing up the ‘my mom,’ ‘your mom,’ and confused him when I was talking about you and Becca. It’s been wild.”

“You didn’t tell him I freaked out, did you?”

Steve looked guilty. “Yeah, but only because I was glad you were freaking out on the outside so no one noticed me freaking out on the inside.”

“Thanks,” Bucky laughed.“You suck.”  
  
  
*=*=*

  
The third night of Hanukkah, Bucky was asked if he wanted applesauce or sour cream with his latke which puzzled him, but didn’t conflict him.

“Sour cream is an option?”

“Yeah, but sour cream is gross. Go Team Applesauce,” Steve tried to say, but Bucky was adamant.

“No way. Sour cream all the way!I could eat my own arm off if you covered it in sour cream.”

“Oh, so that’s what happened?” Steve asked and Bucky laughed.

“Maybe.Give me the sour cream.”

After he’d stuffed himself with more fried food than any one person should, Steve and Becca taught all of the rules to playing with a dreidel and he only felt marginally guilty about taking candy from an actual baby whenever he’d land on _gimel_.

(It wasn’t like she wouldn’t win the gelt back and besides, this stuff was delicious.)

He did feel more guilty when he had to reluctantly admit, “I have to work tomorrow night.”

None of the Barnes’s seemed very fazed so Bucky wasn’t sure how to read their reactions.

“What?” Steve asked when Bucky shot him a confused look.

“Is that okay? I would have taken off, but-“

“That’s perfectly fine,” Steve said with a shrug. “It happens. You can’t just quit your life for eight days.”

“Oh. Okay.”

It was obvious Bucky could breathe better after that so Steve added, “Hanukkah isn’t a bid deal kind of holiday like Christmas, Buck. You do what you can, when you can.I know people try to make it compete with Christmas, but it shouldn’t. We’ll be upset if you can’t make it for Rosh Hashanah. But Hanukkah is just a minor holiday so if you can’t always make it,” he shrugged, “Shit happens.”

“Steve,” his father said in a warning tone and Steve pulled a face.

 

=*=*=

 

So the fourth night of Hanukkah, Steve met Bucky before work and they walked around the mall in an effort to find stocking stuffer type things for Becca.   
   
"This place isn't a great kid shopping place, is it?" Steve kind of laughed.  "I hadn't noticed before."   
   
"It's great if you wanna buy her all clothes and make her think Santa is a real bitch."  Bucky flashed a toothy grin.  
   
"You're a monster," Steve deadpanned and then motioned up and down Bucky's body.  "You're about to go put on a whole elf costume, but you'd steal a kid's Christmas joy like that?" 

"I'm Jewish.  I don't care about Christmas," Bucky replied, turning his head and looking the picture of innocence.  Steve shoved at him anyway.   
   
"You're a liar.  You _LOVE_ Christmas and even Jews know that Christmas is pretty much the best holiday ever.  That's why we mimic it and give gifts and get upset when someone Santa doesn't visit us for our entire lives.  How many Christmas presents and Christmas parties and Christmas cookies have I missed out on?"   
   
Bucky burst out laughing.  "Lifetime's worth, Steve.  You can never catch up."   
  
" _Deodamnatus_!" Steve cursed and Bucky furrowed his brow.  
  
"Are you cursing in-"  
  
"Latin, yeah," Steve nodded as if that were just something people did.  Bucky didn't comment on it, instead choosing to mark it down mentally as one of his future husband's quirky, endearing qualities.  
   
"Look, let's go shopping for the kid tomorrow, cool?" Bucky said.  "At an actual toy store?  Somewhere good?"  
  
"Yeah," Steve agreed. "You need to go.  You're gonna be late for work and I kind of wanna see you in tights again."   
   
"You are the worst," Bucky muttered, but he motioned Steve after him and said, "Those things are surprisingly comfortable."   
   
And he wasn't kidding.  The first time he'd donned the yellow stockings that he wore with the elf costume, he kept feeling like he was exposing himself to the world, but once he was sure he wasn't flashing children his junk, he settled down and realized that women had been onto something for years when it came to wearing stockings.  They're somehow both incredibly warm and incredibly comfy.   
   
"Are they?"  Steve laughed.  "Do you lounge around in tights at home?"   
   
"Only on days I wear the costume home," Bucky replied.  "So wash days.  But seriously.  Woman have been onto this secret for centuries and they've very discretely kept us in the dark and let toxic masculinity eat us alive while they enjoy all of the tights/stockings/leggings/yoga pants/whatever else they have all by themselves.  It's genius though because they don't even have to do any of the work.  Years of conditioning ourselves to be 'manly men' have kept us from doing anything we perceive as remotely feminine and now we're the only ones to blame when it comes to not knowing the comfort and joy that is stockings."   
   
"You've really thought about this," Steve laughed.   
   
"I've had a lot of time to.  I got this job three years ago and then lost my arm before the second year rolled around.  They were cool about it, let me come back to work.  You have to get rehired every year.  They never did that thing where the employer kind of looks at you and then looks at your prosthetic and then pretends like they weren't looking at your prosthetic and then pretends to give you a fair interview, but has zero intention of ever hiring you even if you interview better than anyone else."   
   
"I'm sorry, Bucky.  That isn't fair to-"   
   
"No, no, I didn't say that so you'd feel sorry for me," Bucky said, "I just- I got this job because I needed to get one, help my mom with some bills, whatever.  And then some friends were picking on me about it, and Natasha who is like the hottest girl at my school got the same job so they'd actually all be jealous that we got to spend all this time together and stuff.  But Natasha's actually been my friend since we were tiny so she was just being nice.  Anyway, the second year, i couldn't get the stocking off and on easily by myself.  I hadn't learned how to do things with one hand yet and I hadn't learned to really work the prosthetic so I would just wear them home everyday and sit around until my mom got there to help me out of them.  I had time to contemplate ad weigh the societal norms of men wearing stockings. And now I wear the stockings and hat and get to eat cookies and talk to kids, and hang out with Natasha, and it's far more fun than most people have with holiday jobs, but it definitely took me a while to reach this level of appreciation."  
   
"Now I feel like I should get a job.  Maybe some enlightenment."  
   
"I could teach you how to be a Jewish-not-Jewish elf," Bucky offered. "But it's kind of late in the season now." 

"Maybe when the Eastern Bunny shows up, we can help him.  Her?" Steve said with a grin, but Bucky just rolled his eyes.   
   
"The Easter Bunny doesn't need helpers, Steve. God, you know nothing." 

"Well, isn't it your job to teach me?"   
   
"I am not teaching you that holiday for at least like four and a half more months."   
   
"C'mon, Bucky.  You're slacking on the job here."   
   
"No, I'm gonna be late for my real job, Steve," Bucky quipped.  "I have to go.  Are you coming?"   
   
"I wanna see the tights, remember?" Steve said with a waggle of his eyebrows.  
   
The thing was, Bucky actually did have the best thighs so tights were kind of actually perfect for not only him, but for Steve's viewing pleasure and Bucky let Steve into the back room where he changed so Steve got to sit there and attempt to maintain a normal conversation with him while he put those thighs out on display. 

By the time Natasha showed up, in a leather jacket and killer boots that made Steve only marginally feel like he should fear for his wellbeing, Bucky was already fully clad in his elf costume and pinning his hair back to fit under the hat.   
   
"You must be Steve?" Natasha asked, but really, it wasn't a question.  She had looked him up and down once and assessed that much.  
   
"Yes, are you Natasha?"    
   
"Only for another minute," she said, shucking out of her leather jacket.  "Once I put this thing on," she motioned toward her costume hanging nearby, "I'll be Tinsel Tasha for the next five hours."   
   
"She was scaring the kids.  We had to give her a perky personality to become," Bucky informed. 

"Tinsel Tasha?  And you don't have to become anyone else?" Steve asked Bucky expectantly.   
   
"Oh, he's Jolly Jamie Jingle Joy," she responded, making Bucky's cheeks redden.  "He won't respond to it, but we try it anyway."   
   
"Wait, you call him Jamie?!" Steve asked, incredulously.  "Why do you get to call him that?"   
   
"Try it," Bucky threatened, "And you'll henceforth be known only as Stocking Stuffer Steve." 

 

 

 


	5. The Part Quintus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fifth night of Hanukkah Steve didn't call anything because he was too busy running a 101 degree temperature and lying miserably curled up in bed. Well, he did call it, "Completely expected by this point," but that didn't really count as a title.

 

The fifth night of Hanukkah Steve didn't call anything because he was too busy running a 101 degree temperature and lying miserably curled up in bed.  Well, he did call it, "Completely expected by this point," but that didn't really count as a title. 

"He's what?"  

"Running a high fever and trying to sleep it off," Bucky answered miserably once he got home and told his mother about matters.  "He just stayed in his room all night.  I stayed a while, stole chocolate from a child, and then my new mom gave me a new scarf and a semi-awkward hug so I guess that's it then.  Maybe Steve needed the scarf really, but she said he gets sick all the time so..."  Bucky shrugged and kind of moped off to his room.  
   
"Would I be overstepping if I called her to check on him?" Sarah asked carefully to Bucky as she came and stood against his doorframe.   
   
"I don't think you can overstep in concern for your child??" Bucky's voice went up on the end of the statement, but nevertheless, it was one thing he was pretty sure about. 

Sarah managed to wait until late the next morning to call and ask about Steve.  Winifred was at work, but she took the call in her chambers.   
   
"Bucky said Steve was sick.  I just wanted to check up on him."   
   
Winifred kind of laughed it off.  "He's fine," she replied.  "He's always fine.  He does this quite a bit actually.  It's nothing to worry about."   
   
"Does this?"   
   
"Catches something.  He's always been a venus fly trap when it comes to germs.  Catches every bug that comes through.  But he'll pull through like every other time.  Just give him a few days."   
   
Sarah wished she didn't feel so uncomfortable asking, "I'm a nurse.  Could I go see if there's anything I do for him?"   
   
She knew which townhouse was theirs because she'd made it a point to know where Bucky was vanishing each night, but she'd never been past the front curb of Google Map's street view. 

"Oh, there's no need.  Jackie's with him," Winifred assured and Sarah felt bad for pushing, but not so bad that she didn't do it. 

"Please let me go be the mother I haven't gotten to be," she said.  
   
And of course, there really wasn't a way for Judge Barnes to argue with that one so she said, "I'll let Jackie know you're coming."   
   
Which was exactly what Sarah wanted so she made some soup and tea and took a compress from the freezer before she packed herself a book in case of emergencies and was out the door.

The house was incredibly nice, but Sarah tried not to look too much when Jackie ushered her in and showed her the way to Steve's room upstairs.   
   
"He's been mostly asleep this time," Jackie told her, "But his fever hasn't broke yet so we're still waiting it out."  She got to Steve's door and turned to Sarah.  "It's actually very, very nice to meet you." 

"You as well," Sarah replied with a smile and then Jackie knocked on Steve's door. 

"She's what?" Sarah heard Steve ask with a rough voice once Jackie had stepped into the room.  She cringed.  She hadn't meant for Jackie to wake him if he was sleeping.  "Why?" He asked and Sarah wanted to kick herself.  Not every child was an overdramatic, whiney baby when they got the slightest sniffle.  In fact, there was a good chance that was just Bucky milking it for everything it was worth.  Maybe this was a bad idea, coming here to see Steve. 

But then Jackie stepped back out of the room and told her, "He said you can come in, but to warn you that he's 'unattractive, unwell, and unwashed.' Which he then followed with the words, 'Canis infirmum.'" 

"Canis infirmum, huh?" Sarah asked as she stepped into the room.  It was two and half times the size of Bucky's room she noted with a sense of resignation.   
   
"Sick dog," Steve croaked from somewhere under most of his covers.  "I don't know the word for 'puppy.'"   
   
"You mother- your other mother- tells me that this is normal for you," Sarah commented.   
   
"Speaking Latin?" Steve asked.   
   
"No, the staying closed up in your room while you're dabbling in the Art of Affliction."   
   
Steve pushed the large comforter out of his face and crooked a bit of a smile at Sarah.  "From time to time, but nothing like it was when I was younger.  I think I'm outgrowing a lot of it." 

"You should," Sarah said with a nod and then motioned to the side of the bed.  "Most children do.  Mind if I sit?"   
   
"You sure you don't wanna sit like way over there?" Steve asked as he pointed to the furthest corner of the room where a stool and art easel set. 

"I'm a nurse.  It'll be hard for you to make me sick at this point.  I've been doing this job for twenty-two years.  My immune system is pretty impenetrable to anything my patients may have."

"Oh, so I'm a patient?" Steve asked and Sarah reached into the bag she was carrying and pulled out the soup and tea.

"Well, I thought I might stick around and see if we could get this fever to die down so I think you count as one right now."   
   
Steve smiled up from his blanket cocoon and then rolled onto his side.  "Okay, yeah.  We can do that."   
   
Sarah set the tea thermos and soup thermos on the nightstand beside Steve and then reached behind him and started to situate his pillows so that he could prop up against them and eat.   
   
"You are unreal," Steve said, pulling his unkempt body up the bed and leaning back against the pillows as Sarah moved on to opening the lid to the first thermos.  

"Why would you say that?" she asked as she handed him the drink.  "Got it?"   
   
"Yes, thank you."  He took a sip of the tea and then reached to set it back down.  "That's good."   
   
Sarah took it from him and set it down herself before opening the soup.   
   
"I say that because... Is it really chicken noodle?" Steve asked.  "You're like a movie mom."

"Chicken noodle is the best for you.  There's a reason it's always shown in movies, you know?  It's not just because Campbell's Soup is a sponsor of the film.  It's a good source of vitamins and minerals.  It's protein which your body can always use, but especially when you're sick.  When you're running a fever, you generally need more fluids and electrolytes.  Steam is a natural decongestant.  _And_ -"   
   
" _And_?"   
   
"And," Sarah laughed, "Chicken has an amino acid in it that has anti-viral effects." 

"And what's in the tea?  Is the tea gonna give me super powers?"   
   
"No, it's just tea," Sarah laughed as she sat down toward the foot of Steve's bed.  "But it does have steam and electrolytes."    
   
"This is amazing," Steve said as he tasted the soup.  "I didn't know anyone really did this in real life." 

"No one brings you soup when you're sick?  Or tea?" 

"Jackie brings me cups of water.  She keeps me hydrated," Steve said like it was no big deal, but all Sarah heard was that someone hadn't been taking care of her baby and she wanted to reach out and hug him immediately, but he was sick, and his body probably ached, and he was eating hot soup he probably shouldn't spill.

"Steve, I will-" Sarah hesitated, reorganized her words, "I'm sorry I wasn't there to take care of you when you needed me." 

"It's really not your fault," Steve dismissed with a slight shrug.  "Not your fault.  And hey, I had great doctors and things.  I didn't die.  But this has a personal touch that's kind of nice.  Thank you." 

"Maybe I just always spoil Bucky like he's still a baby.  He still acts like a baby when he's sick." 

"How did you know I was sick?  When I was little?"   
   
"When you developed the infection?" She asked and he nodded.  "You'd been a tiny baby," she recalled.  "Tiny, but not unwell.  You'd been born early, but you were a fighter.  You'd been born after my water broke early.  Went to the hospital and was in labour with you for two days before you arrived.  This was still when they were hesitant to do c-sections very quickly.  They carried more risks back then.  But then you arrived and you were so tiny and so vulnerable that they whisked you away before I could see you for more than a second and at a distance.  They kept you in an incubator for about two weeks. But then they decided you were healthy enough to go to the regular nursery and then not much after that, they sent you home and you were so small, but you were healthy and happy." 

Sarah was smiling off toward his floor somewhere as she remembered baby Steve and something about it made him happy to know that she actually had clear memories of _him_.  
   
"But then one day- you were just a few months old- you started doing this thing where it sounded like you couldn't catch your breath.  You'd be fine for a few breaths and then you'd kind of take these short choppy breaths and then you'd try to suck in a big breath like you'd been about to drown and finally gotten to air.  Well, needless to say, I panicked.  Your father had just passed and I was a first time parent, but I'd seen plenty of babies while working at the hospital so I didn't panic easily, but this was my baby and it wasn't normal.  So I rushed you to the ER.  The doctor spent about three minutes with you before she said, "He's doing the same thing."  And everything just jumped into hyperdrive.  I didn't know what that means, but suddenly, doctors and nurses all around you with lights and stethoscopes and heartrate monitors and taking blood.  It was a whirlwind.  Then the doctor told me that you were the eighth baby who had come in with these symptoms the in the past week.  I found out much later that the first two didn't survive.  It was an aggressive infection that attacked the lungs- a new bacteria, but mostly only dangerous to infants who couldn't easily fight it off. 

"How'd they stop it?" 

"Well, from what they told us, antimicrobial peptides that fight bacteria were cultivated and intro-" 

Steve held his hand up.  "I'm definitely too sick for that.  And that sounds like science.  My brain goes on serious vacation during the winter holidays.  I just can't." 

Sarah nodded with a smile.  "You and Bucky have that in common.  In short then, they fought it for months because at first, it kept coming back.  They even had to make a small incision on your chest and physically drain fluid build up from the lining of your lungs.  Then it left you too week to breathe on your own so they had these dozens of babies on breathing machines just trying to make it.  It was horrifying." 

   
"When did you first get Bucky?"  Steve was steadily sipping on the soup now and listening intently. 

   
"Not till it was all over.  From the start, once they'd airlifted you to Lehigh, they didn't allow visitors.  I was allowed to come weekly and see you through the glass.  You'd be obviously sick or sleeping or awake and fussy, but it was always you.  I took pictures through the glass one time.  I still have them.  They're not Bucky."

"They said you were one of the last babies to go home.  I showed up so excited to get you.  Finally, I got to bring you home with me.  Your father had died just months before and then having you so sick and far away, it was the hardest thing I'd ever been through.  And then I showed up, went to get you, and they handed me him."   
   
"Didn't you immediately say, 'This isn't my baby.'?"   
   
"Of course I did!" Sarah's hands went up as if the frustration were current.  "I thought it was a simple mix up so I kind of laughed and said, "Oops, wrong baby.  I'm here for James Rogers."   
   
They pulled at his wrist, checked his ID bracelet, and then said, "This is James Rogers.  July 4th, right?"   
   
"I agreed, but I said very calmly at first, 'This isn't my son.'  So they told me to hold on, left me there in the waiting room holding onto Bucky."   
   
"They didn't even take him back with them when they left?"   
   
"No.  They didn't believe me.  And then, well, the ladies there started giving one another looks when they thought I couldn't see them.  They were whispering, were saying things about disorders and illnesses.  I didn't know who they were talking about- you, me, this stranger's baby I was holding.  And this went on for an hour.  Bucky got fussy, started crying.  I was worried about his lungs and him crying and putting too much stress on his little body so I stood up, started walking around with him, bouncing him a little and singing quietly.  He quiets down for a little while, but soon enough, he's back at it again.  He's hungry, I know.  A nurse brings me a bottle and I ask about you.  She doesn't know.  She'll ask.  So we waited again. It's been two hours and I tell them I just want my son.  I tell them I'll show them which one he is if they just show me the babies.  So finally they do.  And none of them are you."   
   
"Did you panic?"   
   
"Inside, I was screaming." Sarah shook her head and wiped at her eyes and Steve didn't mean to make her cry.  He almost said something to apologize, but Sarah kind of laughed and said, "I thought they didn't want to tell me something had happened to you." 

"That I'd died?" Steve asked very quietly and Sarah nodded.  She was at the foot of Steve's bed and a hundred miles away.   
  
"I was scared to ask and even more scared to hear them say it.  And if something had happened to you, whose baby was I holding?  So I thought that maybe it was intentional, that they'd been trying to placate me and help this baby so I looked at him again for a long time, told them that maybe I had gotten confused.  A nurse said, 'He's been through a lot of treatments.  They change children's appearances sometimes.'  And that's true, but rarely to the extent of someone not recognizing their own son.  But I took him home.  I didn't know what else to do." 

"My mom said," Steve spoke up, "That she'd been in court when they called her to come get me, or well, come get Bucky.  So she'd missed the phone call, but her receptionist had gotten it.  My Grandmother Hubbard who had only met Bucky a few times went and picked me up.  She didn't know any better.  She had been there at his birth, but she didn't live in New York at the time so she hadn't seen him since.  She was on the allowed guardians list so they gave her me.  Probably just a simple mix up, but she didn't know I wasn't him.  Maybe it's why my grandmother and my mom argue all the time.  I never knew why growing up, but my grandmother is amazing to me and my mom- she does what she can.  She's never been like this."   
   
Steve held out the almost empty soup thermos now.     
   
"Like what?" 

   
"Doctor Mom."   
   
"Well, I promise to be there if you'd like in the future.  Just say the word.  Also, I have a cold compress if you want that or we can heat it up if you'd prefer."   
   
Steve smiled bigger than he usually ever did while feeling this miserable.  "Hey, Ma?"   
   
"Yes?"   
   
"I graduate this year.  And I know Bucky does too, but, uh, will you come to mine?  If you're not busy?"   
   
"If I'm not busy?"  Sarah asked, surprised.  "Honey, I will clear my calendar.  What makes you think I would miss it?"   
   
Steve smiled, almost watery in his surprise.  And he was still smiling when Sarah tucked him in a while later and told him she'd see him again soon.  
  
“Hey, Ma?” he asked quietly. “You don’t regret it, do you?  The switch?”

“It was a mess,” Sarah answered, “but I like to think we made the best of it.I’ve tried to love Bucky the same as I would have you and he’s been an amazing son the way I’m sure you would have been.The way I sure you have been to your family.”

Steve didn't feel like any time was a good time to upset your mother so he just sighed and settled back into the sheets and pillows and let Sarah think what she wanted.  
  
  
*=*=*

 

Steve didn't call the sixth night of Hanukkah anything much either on the account that he was still half-dead, but by night seven, he was coming around.  That night, Steve calls, “The Night We Gave Bucky a False Impression of Our Family,” and Bucky completely agrees with that assessment.

He had been totally lost the majority of Shabbat dinner, not understanding the prayers or the traditions, but the bread had been pretty good and they gave him a chance to drink a small bit of wine so he kind of counted that as a win.Well, until he tasted the wine and it mostly dried out his tongue and then he couldn’t figure out why people would drink that stuff in the first place.

Bucky had said as much to Steve when he’d gone with him back to his room after dinner.Steve was feeling somewhat better, but Bucky hadn’t seen him in two days and Steve also looked pretty worn out.

“We don’t really observe Shabbat like good Jews,” Steve told him, “So you won’t have to do that too often.”

“I think I can handle it every so often.”  
  
“Then I guess I’ll have to go figure out what strange things you Catholics do,” he’d teased and Bucky hadn’t argued with that either.He definitely couldn’t say Catholic traditions were any less weird.

“Hey, is it cool with you if I catch us a cab to your place?I have something to talk to you about,” Steve asked after a moment and Bucky shrugged.

“Yeah, sure.”  
  
But the cab ride was almost awkward.Steve hadn’t started any conversations and Bucky had sat waiting a few minutes as they drove down road after road and waited red light after red light.Finally, he decided to ask something that was on _his_ mind.

“Can I ask you something that I kind of feel bad asking because it costs a good bit of money, but-“  
  
“What?” Steve cut him off.

“So the end of Hanukkah is coming up, and Christmas is almost here, and we’ve got to give our moms something, right?”

“I’ve been thinking," Steve agreed, "But I-“

“I have an idea, but I don’t know if my mom would like it or not.”  
  
“Which mom?” Steve asked.  
  
“Momma Barnes,” Bucky said with a grin and okay, maybe that’s how he’d been thinking of her.Steve had meant to ask.  
  
“What did you have in mind?”

 

=*=*=

 

The phone call from Sarah came while she knew Steve and Bucky were out shopping for Rebecca.

Winifred answered on the third ring and Sarah asked if they could meet which was fine, really, but unusual.

Winifred excused herself from George and Rebecca and sent Jackie home to her own family and then met Sarah at the same coffee shop Bucky had been so fond of before.

Sarah greeted her with a hug again and Winifred hugged her back. She’d started to get used to the fact that Sarah and Bucky were huggers.

“How has your Hanukkah been going?” Sarah asked, unsure of how to ask about a holiday she didn’t know much about.

“It’s been splendid,” Winifred answered. “It’s been so good to have Bucky with us.”

“I brought you something. A Christmas gift to welcome you more into our family, if you will.”

Winifred looked a little confused. “I didn’t- I bring you anything. I wasn’t expecting this.”

“I didn’t buy anything,” Sarah replied. “You’ll see.”

She handed Winifred the same kind of coffee she had ordered before and motioned toward the room where they’d first met.

“I want us to be a family,” Sarah told her as they settled down into their same seats. “Our boys seem to want that.”

“They do,” Winifred agreed with a small smile as she set her coffee cup on the table beside her.

“So I brought you something. I spent all night making it so-“

Winifred took the gift Sarah was holding out and pulled the tissue paper from the bag.Inside was a photo album, or so she thought, but she pulled it out and flipped it open to see scrapbook pages.

“I spent a good while at Walgreens printing these,” Sarah laughed, “And the rest of the night putting them in place.”

Winifred flipped open to the first page. The pictures on the first page were of Bucky not too much older than she remembered him when she last saw him.

“That’s him,” Winifred whispered as she covered her mouth. “That’s what I remember him looking like.”

“That’s the first time I took him to the park,” Sarah told her. “He was just learning to pull himself up on things to get around.He hated the feeling of the grass on his legs when he’d fall and each time he’d throw an absolute tantrum like grass was the most offensive thing he had ever known.”

There was a picture of Bucky sleeping in a playpen and sucking his thumb and a picture of Bucky learning to walk and his first haircut and his second birthday.

“Steve’s birthday,” Winifred noted. “So he would have been only a year and a half.”

“Yeah,” Sarah nodded. “He was behind a little at first and then caught up in no time and before long, he was ahead of all of his classmates”

“What is that?” Winifred asked, pointing to Bucky and a turtle he was holding up for the camera.The turtle had a bow on top of his shell.

“That’s Raphael. Bucky got Raphael when he was five and he still has Raphael and I imagine he’ll still have him when he’s our age.The boy’s allergic to dogs and cats so we-“

“So is Steve,” Winifred laughed. “He always has been.We aren’t home enough for pets though so it’s good that you have one.”

“Oh, he’s played with Raphael quite a bit already,” Sarah assured.“The boys made a cape for him, filled his bowl with some fresh strawberries, and timed him racing to his food bowl.Then let him have a bite and made him do it again.”

Winifred laughed and turned the page. Pictures of Bucky getting older crossed the paper- from being a toddler enjoying the zoo to a kindergartner holding up a certificate to a first grader playing t-ball.

There was a whole page of Bucky playing hockey at all ages between about eight and fifteen.He’d played on numerous teams and most positions and he’d been ridiculously good at it.

“Does he still enjoy hockey?”

“He loves to watch games, but he gave up playing after the accident.He still thinks ice skating is a competitive sport, however, and will try to race you even when you’re not aware you're racing.”

“Steve does that with everything.He runs cross country and track. He enjoys baseball, but he hasn’t played on a team in years.”

“I tried to get Bucky to take up soccer or something when he lost his arm, but he said, ‘Mom, I’m too old to start over now.’ And no matter how much I insisted sixteen wasn’t old, he would just wave me off.But I think he’s adapted well, all things considered.”

“He doesn’t talk about it,” Winifred commented, gently enough that Sarah didn’t have to say anything if she didn’t want to.“The arm, that is.”

“He doesn’t remember it,” Sarah corrected. “You remember that bomb that went off on the subway a few years ago?Killed one and injured eight others?He said it happened so fast that his first memories of anything being wrong are waking up in the hospital days later.”

Winifred didn’t say anything and Sarah thought she was probably about to do Bucky’s least favorite thing in the world so she added an amendment.

“Please do not, do not say anything to him that is babying or pitying or coddling or cosseting or anything that will upset him. That bothers him twice as much as pretending it didn’t happen.”

“Is that healthy?” Winifred asked. She was flipping quickly till she found the page of Bucky in the hospital and pictures of his recovery.

“He had a counselor for a while, but he mostly had a positive outlook.He took a long while to get over the hockey thing.I’m not going to pretend he wasn’t angry about it a lot at first. He wanted to play and couldn’t figure out a way to make that happen, but when he found something else he liked, he decided having one arm was better than being dead.Now when someone asks about his arm, he makes a joke about it and keeps right on going. He’s a really strong kid.  He'll appreciate it more if you do the same.  It keeps it from being too heavy, I think.”

Winifred agreed and then flipped another page and saw pictures of Bucky doing gymnastics.

“That’s just for fun. Surprisingly, He doesn’t compete against anyone but Natasha.They just go to the gym and do that occasionally.”

“Who?”

Sarah flipped back and found the page of Bucky and Natasha. The two had been friends since elementary school and the pictures were priceless- silly faces, matching costumes, Bucky dressed in a tux next to Natasha in her ballerina outfit. There were a few of those over the years actually and the latest one looked like-

“That one was the beginning of this month,” Sarah pointed out as she tapped the photo where a Bucky and Natasha were the oldest. “They take one every year. They’ve been inseparable most of their lives and Nat works with him at the mall now.He used to want to get his hair so perfect for every day she was having a recital. It was definitely my tip off that he was gay even as a small child.Everyone thought he wanted to look good for her, but I knew he really wanted to look good for _him_.He was always so concerned with impressing others with his style and fashion sense.He always stood in front of the mirror until everything was perfect.”

“Steve changes outfits four times some days.”

Sarah hadn’t to admit she surprised Winifred knew things like that about Steve.

“Teenage boys,” Sarah laughed. “So concerned with the opinions of others.”

“Oh, they’ll grow out of it.”

“Will they? Will they really?”

Both mothers laughed and Winifred flipped to see pictures of Bucky with a rainbow flag cape and rainbow swirls painted along the side of his face and a sparkler in his hand.

“We went to Pride last year and I’ve never made him feel like he had to hide anything from me, but, Winifred,” Sarah was looking down at the photo and shook her head. “I’ve never seen him so happy and so carefree and-“

“I think Steve is gay,” Winifred added. “He’s never said anything, but-“

“He’s bisexual,” Sarah replied. “He mentioned it one day when we were making ornaments.He was a bit jealous of all the ones Bucky had made over the years so he got his hands on some art supplies and showed us both up.  He's really talented.”

“He just mentioned it?”Winifred seemed perplexed.  "Being bisexual?"

“Yeah. Just in passing one day,” Sarah mentioned, but I had already assumed.

“I wonder why he’s never mentioned it to me,” Winifred mused, looking over other pictures of Bucky at Pride.

“Maybe he just felt comfortable saying it with us there.He knew we wouldn’t mind. That cape Bucky’s wearing hangs as a window curtain in his room now.”

Winifred pursed her lips and ran her fingers over a picture of Bucky and his friends all wearing tie-dye shirts and standing under an arch of multicolored balloons.Bucky was wearing bright blue sunglasses and had the biggest smile on his face Winifred had ever seen on him.

The last picture was of Sarah and Bucky standing beside a huge I Love NYC sign were the heart was rainbow colors.

“I wish Steve and I had this,” Winifred said, flipping the page again to see pictures of Bucky and Sarah on camping trips over he years.“We’ve never had this. And I know- I know it’s my fault.I’ve never-“

She looked off and pushed the book away a bit like it was the thing that had upset her when even she knew that was far from the truth.

Sarah knew when to stay silent.

“I didn’t-“ Winifred began and then changed what she was saying. “When he was little, I had spent so much energy trying to get Bucky back, telling doctors, nurses, my husband, and mother that Steve wasn’t my son, that I pushed him away.I hired Jackie, our housekeeper, to care for him.I couldn’t accept it. I couldn’t let myself get close to him. I guess somewhere in my mind I always thought someone would figure out the mix up, that I would get my real son back, and so I just didn’t let myself get close to him. And then days became weeks and months and here we are. Years flew by and we never had this.”She motioned to a photo of Bucky and Sarah canoeing down a river wearing bright orange life jackets.

Sarah hesitated and then spoke up carefully. “It’s not too late.”

“It’s his whole lifetime to make up for.”

“He still needs you. He’s a teenager, Winifred. He’s never going to admit to it, but he still wants your love and approval.You don’t outgrow wanting that from your mother. And I promise you that even though he’s found me, he still wants that from you.”

“I don’t know where to start,” Winifred confessed and Sarah furrowed her brow a moment and thought.

“Don’t try to make him Bucky. Love him for himself.Love him for who he is and it’ll come to you.”  
  
  
*=*=*

 

The last night of Hanukkah rolled around on Christmas Eve and Bucky called it The Most Beautiful Holiday My Eyes Have Ever Beheld.

He was absolutely positive that the entire lit menorah looked like one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen in real life.The light of the candles looked ethereal in the darkness around them. It may or may not have been the source of the lump in his throat when they all stood around singing and watching the candles burn.

And this evening, in a surprising turn of events, Winifred had invited Sarah.

It felt so overwhelming to have her there, but both Steve and Bucky found that they wanted her there more than anything. They wanted their entire family together for their holidays.

“We got you a gift.”

Bucky told Winifred.She looked a little surprised and then surprise gave way to touched.

“And we were going to make you hide it from Ma,” Steve added, “Because we got you both the same thing-“

“But we want to give them to you both and see what you think. And we don’t want you,” Bucky said, looking at Winifred, “to have to hide the gift from you.” His eyes flicked over to Sarah and he grinned.

Steve handed one of the little gift boxes to Bucky who flipped it over to see whose name they had scribbled in tiny handwriting on the bottom.

The boys glanced at one another and then handed the small boxes they were holding to their respectful owners and held their breaths as their mothers opened them.

Immediately they realized that both women had this thing in common where they popped tape and then carefully tried to remove the paper without tearing it.

“Ah, c’mon, you’re just gonna throw it away anyway,” Bucky protested.

It managed to make them rush a little bit.And then they were opening the boxes and revealing necklaces that almost matched in each one.

“They’re our birthstones,” Steve explained even though he kind of figured they already understood.

Each box’s necklace had both boys’ birthstones on each necklace, but Winifred’s also had Rebecca’s.

“Dad helped out, obviously,” Steve laughed, “But he really liked our idea.”

“It’s a beautiful present,” Sarah said.

“At first I felt bad about accepting his help,” Bucky said with a motion toward George, “But then he pointed out that he’s my dad too and probably owes me a lot of years in backpay.”

They all laughed and Sarah reached out to hug them. Steve got there first and she wrapped her arms around him to say thank you. Winifred looked at Bucky and set her gift aside. 

“C’mere,” she said, holding her own arms out for a hug. Bucky stepped up into them and it didn’t matter than he was taller than she was at this point. The hug was so much better, so much less awkward and forced than the previous times so he hugged her back with strong arms while Steve held on solidly to Sarah.

And then Bucky was pulling away and reaching for Sarah so Steve let go and Bucky wrapped his arms around the women who had been his mother for every holiday he could remember.

“You liked it?” he asked her while she squeezed him.

“Of course I do.  It's perfect.”

Steve looked at Winifred almost resignedly so it surprised him when she opened her arms to him a little bit. They definitely weren’t usually huggers.

“Come on,” she told him and suddenly a small smile spread across Steve’s face. He hurried forward, wrapped his arms around her middle, and felt her do the same, tightening her arms around his body.

“I hope you like it-“ he started, but she cut him off.

“I love it. And I want you to know that I love you too, okay?”

Steve’s body kind of seized at that for a second, his heart going out of rhythm for a beat or two.He couldn’t remember her having ever said that before.Not to him anyway.Not even on holidays.Not even in front of other people for appearance's sake.

“I love you so much and I don’t want you to ever, for one minute, think that I may not.”Winifred pulled back and cupped Steve’s face in her hands. “And I know, I know that I haven’t been the understanding and supportive mother that you need. I’ve spent your whole life thinking about myself and not ever thinking about how that influenced you.And I’m going to do better. I want to promise that to you.”

Steve nodded and then he was blinking back tears.The miracle of Hanukkah had always been some distant story, but this miracle was happening right here in front of him and he had to try to take a deep breath to dispel the tight feeling in his chest.  
  
“You have Bucky now,” Steve told her, like maybe she’d forgotten that she now had the child she had always wished he was.  
  
“That’s has nothing to do with this.This has to do with you and me.Only.”  
  
Steve nodded and Winifred brushed his hair back with her fingers and looked into those blue eyes that she had previously only seen as proof that he didn’t belong and instead saw the mixed feelings of hurt and hope swimming around in them.

“And I’m so sorry,” Winifred said, grabbing at tissues from the tissue box nearby for the both of them to wipe their eyes.

“It’s okay,” Steve squeaked, but Winifred shook her head.

“No, I’m going to do better.Will you give me that chance?”  
  
Steve nodded.And she hugged him again to her chest.

Beside them, Sarah held Bucky in her arms just a minute longer to appreciate having him there before he was grown and gone and the moment was passed.

And they probably would have stayed that way longer if Becca hadn’t gotten impatient from waiting in her father’s arms and finally asked, “Can I have my present now?”  
  
To Steve's surprise, Winifred looked at Rebecca and said, "Hold on a minute.  I'm talking to your brother."  
  
His eyebrows must have shot up or his eyes widened or something because Sarah looked back at him and smiled a little.  
  
"I also don't want you to think that I love Bucky or Rebecca more than you.  I'm going to have to try to work on my relationship with you, but I want you and me to have more than what we've had in the past."  
  
"You don't have to do this, you know?" Steve asked.  "I won't be upset if you want me to let you spend time with Bucky instead.  I understand that trade."  
  
Winifred shook her head.  "What are you talking about?  Did you hear anything I just said?"  
  
Steve shrugged.  "Just Quid Pro Quo?"  
  
Now Judge Winifred Barnes understood _Quid Pro Quo_ on a judiciary level.  Equal exchange of goods or services.  But with Steve saying it, she just scoffed and shook him by his shoulders.  
  
" _QUID PRO QUO?_ "  she laughed and practically shouted at once.  Steve kind of tried to shrug again, but Winifred pulled him back to her.  "There is nothing, _no one_ to exchange here.  I'm keeping you both."  
  
  


*=*=*  
  
  
  
In what turned out to be essentially payback for Shabbat’s awkwardness, Bucky presented Steve with The Mass Where Everyone Who Isn’t Religious Comes to Pretend To Be For One Day a Year.

The midnight mass was at eleven that evening which was the first thing that made absolutely no sense to Steve and made even less sense when neither Sarah nor Bucky could give him a reason as to why.  
  
Bucky had to show Steve how to cross himself with holy water when he entered the cathedral and they giggled and got a nasty look from a stodgy old man, but otherwise, Steve mastered it.

The second thing that struck Steve as odd was that Catholics seemed to want to be like popcorn- always popping up from their seats at a second’s notice, sometimes without the priest ever having to tell them to do so.He lost count of the amount of times they had to sit down and stand up and kneel down and stand up and sit and stand and kneel and sit and stand and these people were relentless.

“It seems to me that if people were meant to pop up that much, we would sit in tiny toasters that would spring us from our seats at the proper moments,” Steve had said after which made Bucky nod and agree.

They hadn’t asked him to do Communion which frankly, Steve was relieved about.He didn’t know the first thing about these people and just consuming random food from a stranger’s hand kind of made him feel a little uneasy.Besides, it was supposed to be “the flesh and blood of Christ” which kind of squeaked Steve more than he cared to admit.Besides, wasn’t Jesus a Jewish man?Despite Steve recently discovering he wasn’t one, it still felt a bit like cannibalism to just eat something and pretend it was some dead man’s flesh.An no, taking into account the man’s supposed divinity did absolutely nothing to help how he thought about it.  
  
Not to mention, the priest had reminded everyone that Communion, or as he called it “The Holy Eucharist, most holy of the Seven Sacraments” was supposed to be done by those who were “in a state of Grace.”Steve was sure he was in a number of states- State of Confusion, State of Exhaustion, State of New York.But he wasn’t sure he was in a state of grace exactly.The priest seemed to be asking a lot of a guy who just found out he wasn’t Jewish a few weeks ago. 

Secondly, anyone taking Communion was supposed to have confessed their mortal sins before coming and Steve had never confessed anything to anyone in a religious context ever and he though maybe starting from childhood and going through the middle of his eighteenth year of life might be more than the priest had time or patience for anyway.

There was one thing that was kind of cool though and made Steve kind of excited.He knew almost every song they sang. 

Growing up Jewish never exempted anyone from hearing a million Christmas songs this time of year.They were on the radio, played in cabs, in restaurants, on commercials and in movies, blasted over loud speakers at shopping malls, and sung by carolers on the streets.So when the congregation stood up and started to sing _Joy to the World_ , Steve’s eyes went wide and he looked at Sarah and Bucky excitedly.  
  
“I know this one!” he’d announced and they laughed.

 

*=*=*

 

On the ride home, Steve and Bucky were getting their second wave of adrenaline. Their bodies had reached the point where they assumed they weren’t going to sleep this evening so they needed help being powered along and now, _bam_! Both boys were wide awake again.

“We should change our last names to hyphenated last names,” Steve suggested. “So we can both use Barnes and Rogers.”

Bucky shrugged casually and said, “Sounds like you’re proposing and while I thought we should start with a casual date first, I'm willing to jump to engagement.”

Steve cracked up and so did Sarah, but then Steve said, “You mean these last few days haven’t been some weird courting ritual?”  
  
"I've been counting them as unusual dates," Bucky informed without an ounce of shame.  
  
"I guess that answers what I wanted to ask you about the other day.  I kind of like you too so I wanted to ask how you felt about me, but-"  
  
"I've only had a crush on you since the day our sister interrogated Santa."

When they got back into the apartment, it was only to stay a few minutes. Steve grabbed the toys they’d been stashing at the Rogers’s apartment that still needs to be delivered to Rebecca before morning.

“Hang on!” Bucky said and then hurried to his room while Steve double checked that they bag they had contained everything they’d purchased for their her.

When Bucky emerged, he was back in his elf costume from work and looking happy as ever.

“There is no way I am going to deliver a kid’s Christmas presents and not wearing this costume.”

They told Sarah goodnight and then both headed down toward the street again to catch a cab, but outside the apartment lobby, Bucky grabbed at Steve and said, “We forgot a Christmas tradition.”

“What’s that?” Steve asked, tightening his grip on the bag and turning to see what Bucky was talking about. But Bucky was stopped under the arch of the door and pointing upward.

“Mistletoe.”

Steve blushed about three or four shades of red, but he stepped closer to Bucky anyway, stepping back under the arch and dropping the bag of toys near their feet.

He grabbed onto Bucky’s fuzzy velvet coat with both of his hands and the two of them grinned nervously. Then they both surged forward and Bucky’s lips found Steve’s in an eager, chaste kiss.It was simple and sweet and kind of not what Bucky expected to get for Christmas, but he was especially excited that it seemed to promise more the way Steve snatched the bag of toys back up and tugged at Bucky’s hand and said, “C’mon, we can do this later. Right now,” he looked at Bucky’s outfit and then handed him the bag of toys to carry, “You have a job to do.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again you guys. You've been the BEST for reading this.
> 
> This was my first thing I've ever put on ao3 even though I've been writing for years. I've even been writing Marvel stuff for years. I'm just not good at sharing. But I'm going to pop some standalone fics on here soon and then I'm signed up for the Cap Big Bang coming this fall when I'll bring Stucky Pirates(!) to you guys.
> 
> Your support has been amazing and very encouraging. Thank you. All of you. Sincerely.   
> (Especially you, Kelsey.)


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